primrosella | Entries tagged with literary analysis

Once upon a time there lived a princess with six brothers, whose wicked stepmother turned them all into swans...

It's a little strange, I suppose. Every year on this day, I find myself telling that story, and every year I end up wondering on that little princess, and her bravery, and the long task she undertook in order to break the curse on her brothers. Six years of silence without ever once smiling or laughing or speaking a single word, and the task of sewing six little shirts from thistles in the meantime. It's one of my favorite fairy tales, really. I suppose that's why I have such a penchant for telling it again and again.

Well, that and because, as I say every year when I tell it, six years is a long time to wait. And every year I find myself appreciating more and more the magnitude of the undertaking she agreed to for the sake of her brothers.

I've waited three years, now, for mine. And still that's only half of what she endured.

It's supposed to be a magic number, three. Good things come in threes, and sometimes bad things do, too. And some of us often go around and around on whether or not this time here in the City is a good thing or a bad one, or if it's perhaps a little of both, or if it's really all just a matter of how one looks at it. When I fell into the Fountain three years ago today, I certainly never could've imagined that I'd be here three years later, looking back on it with so many things done and friends made and adventures experienced in that time. I certainly never thought that the young hero who came to my rescue that day would turn out to be the best friend I've ever known. And I never could've guessed at all the others I'd meet along the way, and how important they would all end up becoming to me.

I suppose that's a sort of magic in itself, isn't it?

Mm, and it seems there's a curse today, as there often is on my anniversary. Two years ago, I remember I forgave the City for bringing me here, because it let me meet all of you. Last year I spent it thinking about time, and how hard it would be to sum up everything I've done here into a tale like that of the princess with the swan brothers. So today, I'll say the truth is that I do miss my kingdom in Daventry, and I wish I were there with my family, but by now it'd really only mean leaving one home and family to return to another.

I've lasted three years already; I think I can dare to manage however many more are in store.

[OOC: Ohhh, snap, it's Rosella's Polyversary! Three years ago today I brought her in to Poly, and the joy and pleasure of playing her hasn't ceased since. (And as of tomorrow, she'll be my longest running character ever! o/) ♥ It's been an amazing three years, everyone, so THANK YOU yet again to everyone who's played with me in this time, and here's hoping there'll be many more excellent ones to come!]

Current Mood: peaceful

Back home in Daventry, we have...something of a tradition of telling stories, you might say. I suppose it's only to be expected of a family with a habit of getting into adventures, but it's something we all do and something my father's court chronicler insists upon, besides. When an adventure is through and the journey home is finally at an end, the first thing--or one of the first, really, since the very first is usually to embrace the whole family--one does is to sit down with Gerwain and tell him the whole story so that he might write it down for the royal archives.

It's a bit strange, you know; I had an adventure of my own just before I fell into this City, and never had the chance to tell it to Gerwain myself. It's rather why I started keeping a journal here in the first place. And a good thing I did, really, since that adventure is coming up on three years ago now, and I'll still have to tell it all back as soon as I'm finally home again. To say nothing of all the adventures I've had here, besides!

I suppose one could say that the point of a story is to help keep a memory alive and fresh--which is part of the reason we always have Gerwain write it, since he has the most marvelous knack for taking a spoken tale and making it come alive on paper, almost as real as it was when we were living it ourselves. My friend Blue once did something similar, here in the City: he liked music very much, and so he convinced as many of the City's musicians as he could to play for him, and recorded their music, and kept it all as a memory of the people that have come and gone from here before. I was one of the ones who played for him, myself, so I suppose that means my music will still be here, too, even after I've gone. Blue's still is. It's the only way I have left to hear him play anymore, and though it may not be much, I'm glad for it.

It's...easier to hold onto memories when there's something to hold on to, isn't there? My best friend Sam left me a movie of one of his adventures, and Blue left me his music, and Penny left the Welcome Center, which isn't mine but still makes me smile every time I pass it by in the Square. Wouldn't it be nice if we could all do the same, somehow?

I've been thinking of stories and memories lately. Everyone has at least one, no matter how long or briefly they've been here. I rather wonder what they'd sound like, if we were all to put them together. And what a collection they'd make for the people who might follow us after we ourselves were gone.

[OOC: And thus begins the preliminary stages of the City Chronicle project; Alms, I left it a little vague so we could expand or refine the idea ICly if you wanted? Regardless, Rosella wants to chronicle your stories, City. Good memories, bad memories, hilarious curse retellings, anything goes! Interested parties, please inquire within. ♥]

Current Mood: creative

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...Yesterday was quite a curse, wasn't it?

I do hope everyone's all right today, and that no one found themselves seriously harmed by any compulsions yesterday. I suppose that's the sort of curse that could be as harmless or as dangerous as one cares to make it, really--or rather, as the one in power cares to make it, I should say. I know there were some people who tried very hard to make things easier on the people who had the misfortune to be cursed, certainly, and from what I saw on the Network, there were others who did everything they could to take advantage of the situation instead. I suppose I should count myself lucky I wasn't made to do anything worse than a few silly errands and some running around, really. It certainly could've been much worse.

Curses like that always put me in mind of marionettes, somehow. I had one as a girl, a gift from a gnome who was a friend of the family, and he showed me how to make it dance by pulling on the strings. I think that's a rather apt analogy for a curse like yesterday's, as well--one person dancing, and the other tugging at the strings to make it so. It's the same sort of thing, I think; the marionette can't help how it moves, and it's so all on the puppetmaster to determine how gently or cruelly it dances.

But of course, there's a difference between a person and a toy, just the same. ~~Some people on this Network would do well to remember that.~~

Still, it's over now, and I think I'm going to spend today doing whatever I want, however I please, in whichever order I care to do it. It's often said that we never properly appreciate what we have until it's gone, and if there's one thing yesterday's curse has taught me, it's that free will goes underappreciated far, far too often.

[OOC: Yup, she was cursed yesterday. Fortunately, Cain found a loophole and got her out of obeying everyone (at the expense of obeying him alone), so she didn't have nearly as bad a day as she could've. Which is why she's just kind of thoughtful and introspective instead of a nervous wreck, because control issues are big with her. Also, yes, she really does get locked in a torture chamber at one point in canon. Sierra, what are you even.]

Current Mood: pensive

[Filtered AWAY from the Deities | Attempted Unhackable]

The word "harpy", it's Greek--it comes from a word I can't quite recall, harpa-something, I think, but it means "to snatch", and that's where "harpy" comes from: it means "that which snatches". Which I suppose means they're scavengers of a sort, and rather a bit like vultures in their own way, too. When things go missing suddenly and mysteriously, it's often said to be the fault of harpies. They're also often linked to storm winds, somehow, which I imagine is likely because they're both noisy, fierce, and generally harmful. Their talons are made of bronze, their wings of steel; they're always depicted as ugly, they live in filth and squalor, and their purpose, for the most part, is to torment.

I think, from what we've seen of the harpies, most all of that fits with the ones we've been encountering here. They're different in some ways--I think there's more metal to these ones than just talons and wings, to begin with--but they're certainly noisy and fierce, and there's no doubt that they've been tormenting us ever since they arrived.

The part about snatching things away and living in squalor seems to fit, too. It seems a great group of them have taken up residence in the remains of the fallen tower; I didn't dare get close enough to really look at it, but there's certainly some sort of structure there now, in bits and scraps of metal all put together, and I saw quite a cluster of harpies circling around it, as well.

I suppose it's both good and bad news, if they are settling in. Bad because the last thing we want is for them to get comfortable and entrench themselves here, but good because if they're mostly all in one place, then it's somewhat easier to avoid them. Or to deal with them all at once, as the case may be.

~~Or leave, but we can't--the storms outside the barrier, they're too awful, and yet I can't seem to get the thought out of my head, that we could just leave...~~

Still, there's something that I can't--that is, as odd a question as this may seem to ask, has anyone noticed a...stranger on the Network lately? Someone urging people to leave, perhaps, or claiming responsibility for the harpies? It seems as though there ought to...

...Well. In any case, if you have seen someone like that, please do let me know.

( Filtered to Iacho | Attempted Unhackable )

Current Mood: distracted

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It's strange how many stories involve a person being changed into something different, isn't it? It can be a bad thing, certainly, like a princess put under a curse and kept trapped that way until a prince can free her, but it's often a good one, too. A girl changes into a tree to keep from being caught by her pursuer, or a hero takes on the shape of something different because he needs an animal's speed, or its strength, or its wings. Sometimes it's a curse, sometimes it's a blessing, and sometimes it's even a disguise, a way of hiding in plain sight.

There are plenty of curses around here that change people into something different. Sometimes it seems as though that's rather the whole point of the curses in the first place--to make people into something they're not, whether in shape or in conduct. Sometimes they make us into completely different people, and sometimes they don't even leave us as people at all; goodness knows I've been changed into a bird enough times to realize that.

I wonder, though, about changes like that. For good or for ill, they're always--and pardoning the pun--changing experiences. And perhaps one of the best ways of learning about who we are is by learning and puzzling out what we aren't.

Dr. Chase, thank you again for the lovely bag you found me for Christmas. It's getting quite a bit of use today, as it turns out, since I'm sorry to say that the pockets that come with jeans really aren't suited to holding much of anything at all.

Which, I must admit, is quite a change in itself.

Current Mood: thoughtful

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There's a story in one of my favorite fairy tale collections about a little princess with six brothers, all of them older than she. And of course, as fairy tales usually go, there's a wicked stepmother--and one who is a witch at that--who grows jealous of her husband's love for his children, so she decides to curse them all by turning them into swans. And she manages to do it, almost, except that she happens to miss the little princess with her curse. So the brothers turn into swans and fly away, and the princess is left alone and distraught with all her family taken away from her. But the princess resolves to chase after her brothers, so she runs after them as they fly away, and follows them for days and days.

One night, as she stops to rest, the six swans fly down and transform back into her brothers for a short spell, and tell her the nature of the curse they're under. They're condemned to live as swans for all but a quarter of an hour of each day, and the only way to break the spell is if someone vows to go for six years without ever smiling, or laughing, or speaking a single word, and to sew them each a shirt of thistles in the meantime. And if she slipped even once, then the curse would set, and it could never be broken again.

On my first anniversary here, I remember thinking about that story. I'd seen so many wonderful and terrible things in that one year of life in the City, and the princess in the tale went for six times that, never speaking a word, for the sake of the people she loved. It's really rather extraordinary, isn't it? The things we can do when we know someone is counting on us to succeed.

She managed quite a lot, that little princess, and on less hope than many of us have here.

It's certainly something to think about, isn't it?

Current Mood: quiet

[Voice Post]

--et this on...oh, rats!

[And there is a yelp and a clatter as the device falls to the ground, accompanied by the rhythmic tapping of someone dancing in the background.]

Rats, rats, I hope that went on...

[She coughs a little, and as the tapping gets a little louder, so does Rosella's voice; however, her sentences come in short bursts between breaths, as the dancing she's doing is making it harder and harder to speak.]

've been trying ... all day ...

[Tappity tappity tap.]

I know ... how this story ... how it ends ...

[Tippety tappity clickety-clack.]

Shouldn't 've ... this morning ... I wasn't thinking ... matched my dress ...

[Clickety-clackety-tippety-tap.]

Oh, did I put ... oh, thank goodness ... now if it'll only reach ...

[And then, amidst the tapping, there comes a sound rather like a whip crack--which then quickly turns to the slithering sound of a rope sliding along the ground near the microphone. Rosella's breathing quickens a bit, and the rapidity of the steps increases, but then there is a stamp and a grunt of exertion, and the tapping suddenly goes silent. Now, in the momentary silence, there is simply the sound of Rosella panting as she tries to catch her breath.]

Rats, rats, this won't last for long. Could someone please--

[And then, suddenly, the audio switches off.]

[OOC: So yeah, given Rosella's penchant for dancing, I couldn't not do this curse. That's what she gets for matching her shoes to her dresses! She's been jigging most of the day, and she's only just now managed to get to her device to alert people about it. Exhausted princess is exhausted, and well aware of how this story is supposed to end, too. All responses assumed voice; her hands are a little busy right now. >>]

Current Mood: exhausted

Well, yesterday's curse was certainly...interesting, wasn't it? And quite odd, too, with all that talk of feeding and hacking at things and poking around frames, main or otherwise. I always rather wonder about curses like that, since they always seem to come with a whole new set of language and the people that are cursed with it always seem to know all the ins and outs of it, too. Do people really talk that way, I wonder, or is it all made up for the sake of the curse? I've certainly never heard anything quite like it, myself.

I have heard of the one we had before it, though--the one where everyone found themselves stealing horses or apples or the girdle of an Amazon queen. At least, I recognize something quite like it. We have stories of heroes in Daventry, and one of them is about a hero that had to perform ten labors as a sort of penance for something he'd done wrong, and then when he'd finished the ten he was told he had to do two more, because he'd had help with two of the first ten. So it ended up being twelve all told, and most everything I've heard about what happened that day seems to fit with the sorts of tasks he was asked to perform.

It's a good story. I've been reading a lot of them, actually, which is why I haven't been around on the Network as much lately; I have a bad habit of getting caught up in my books when I read, and then the next thing I know the hours have just flown by in what seems like an instant. I remember a long time ago, back when I first started working at the Library, my friends got me a little clock that I could set to keep time for me, so that I wouldn't get all caught up in the books in the Library and forget to eat or sleep from trying to read them all. I still have that little clock, too, even though most of those friends--

...Which reminds me, has anyone seen Duo lately? He has a habit of coming and going, so it's not that I'm worried ~~yet~~ exactly, but I haven't heard from him in a while and I'd like very much to know if anyone else has.

Er. Yes, but stories! I've nearly gotten all of my lines for the first act of Neil's play memorized, which hasn't been quite as easy as when I was Helena in A Midsummer Night's Dream, but that's only to be expected since I've been reading Shakespeare since I was a girl, and we only just discovered this play earlier this year. She's a funny girl, Gwendolen--that is, the girl I'm pretending to be. She's very frank and terribly particular and she decides that she's going to fall in love with someone by the name of Ernest, no matter who it is or what else there is about them, because she likes the name so much. I think it'll be fun trying to play her, even though she's not--at least, I do hope she's not--very much like me at all.

Mm, I can hardly believe it's almost autumn now. It was a terribly busy summer, and now it's September already, and that means October is next month again already. But there are plenty of good things about autumn, too, even if it's not one of my favorite months. There's apples for pie and cider, and all the leaves turning colors, and cool and pleasant evenings still light enough for walking.

And, of course, the fun of curling up under a blanket with a good book! I'd enjoy myself reading anytime, of course, but there's something particularly wonderful about snuggling in under a blanket to read. Or...or spending time with someone while you did. I think that must be wonderfully nice, too.

Current Mood: thoughtful

On this day last year, I remember I told a story about a princess with six older brothers that were turned into swans by their evil stepmother. The only way to break that curse was for someone to spend six years without speaking or laughing, and to sew six shirts out of thistles for the brothers in the meantime. The young princess, upon learning of this, agreed to spend those six years in perfect silence for the sake of saving her brothers, working until her fingers bled from the sharp edges of the thistles as she strove to make the shirts for them. Like most fairy tales, that story is only a few pages long, all told, and when the whole story of that princess and her plight can be finished in a matter of minutes, it's easy to overlook just how long of a time six years really is.

Time is a funny thing in fairy tales. One minute a baby princess has just been born, and then the next she's at her christening, and then no more than a few sentences later she's already nearing her sixteenth birthday, daydreaming about the prince she hopes to marry someday. Years run together in a matter of words, and we never think anything of it. A curse to die turns into a curse to sleep for a hundred years, and we never stop to consider just how long a hundred years really is, and just how long that princess would be locked away from the people she loved, sleeping unaware of the world as it went on around her.

Adventures take time, no matter how the stories may suggest otherwise.

Of course, this place is a bit different in that they say time doesn't move in our homelands so long as we stay here. We'll go back to the very instant we left, and no one will ever know that we were gone. That means I'll go back to being seventeen again, with my long-lost brother's hand in my own as I pull him through our castle. That tour, when we finish it, will be the first time he's ever laid eyes on it all. He's been gone for almost eighteen years, you see, and he's never had the chance to see the place that I've always known as home. And I'll go back to my father resting in his bedchambers, recovering from a terrible shock that left him teetering on the brink of death.

Sometimes adventures go quickly because the hero--or heroine, as the case may be--is racing against a ticking clock the whole time. I've had an adventure like that before.

But the only clock ticking here is the one that drives us all mad when we're alone. We go back to the moment we left, and no one will have missed us when we do. So the only ones aware of just how long the adventure lasted...are ourselves.

On this day last year, Rue told me that it's the first year here that seems like the longest, and then all the others go by faster and faster each time. And I think she's right about that. There were times in this past year that seemed to drag on forever, of course, but I remember how it felt as though some great change had occurred, the day I had been here for a whole year, and how from that point on, keeping track of the months as they passed seemed to become less and less important with each one that went by.

I wonder if, when I'm telling this story again someday, I'll find myself letting the time run together the way that fairy tales do. "And she lived there for years on end, and had many great adventures along the way, and then finally the day came when it was time for her to come home..." It's quite a lot of experiences to put all into a single sentence, isn't it? All the friends I've made, all the things I've done, all the laughter and heartache and misery and hope--all summed up into a few short words and a single breath. A year is a long time, for such a short word.

And today, I've been here for two.

Mm, and speaking of time, I think I'll spend this anniversary of mine keeping as busy as I can around the City. Two years ago today I ruined my best dress, so perhaps I'll go look at the pretty ones in the shops today in celebration. And, of course, I'll stay close to the Fountain and keep an eye on the Network, too. Two years ago today, I fell into that Fountain. Perhaps if someone else should end up in the same predicament today, it'll be my turn to go and rescue them, instead.

[OOC: Yup, that's right, it's a Polyversary! As of today, Rosella has been in the City for two years now. My nostalgia, let me show you it. ♥ When I brought her in two years ago, I never could've imagined all the great times I'd have with her, so THANK YOU to everyone that has played with her all this time, and here's hoping for many more great years to come!]

Current Mood: adventurous

So last week it was equivalence, and this week it's pain, is it? It rather makes me wonder if there's a pattern to the words the deities are giving us to write about, and especially so since both words seem to describe an aspect of life in the City. Or perhaps I'm simply reading a bit too much into it, just the same.

Pain is...something I don't like to think about very much, honestly. And it's something that comes in so many different forms and shapes and varieties, and each one hurts a bit differently in its own way, but they all hurt. It's not a very pleasant subject, pain.

I've known a few different kinds of them, I suppose. I've felt the pain--and had the marks left, too--from when a witch grabbed at a necklace of mine and broke it off against my neck. I've felt the horror of realization of certain death, like a painful wrenching in the pit of my stomach, when I was stealing a hen that lays golden eggs out from under the nose of a sleeping ogre, and the hen squawked and the ogre woke up. I've felt the dull ache of hopelessness, sitting in a locked room in a tower, trapped waiting for dawn to come and knowing that the deaths of two people I cared about would come with it. And they're all terrible in their own way, of course.

I think...I think that pain makes people do foolish things, at times, to try and relieve it. I was just recalling a story this past week about the king that ruled Daventry before my father did, and how he very nearly brought his whole kingdom to ruin because of the decisions he made. He died long before I was born, so I never knew him myself. But in all the stories my father has ever told me about him, he never once made that king out to be a bad king--just a kind, sad, and lonely one. He was a king who sometimes made poor decisions because he thought it would take the pain away. I think everyone rather knows what that's like, to make a decision like that just for the sake of alleviating the pain.

But I think that pain also helps people to make the right decisions, too, because hard choices are hard for a reason, and if escaping pain can lead people to make bad choices, then enduring it can sometimes help them make good ones. It hurts, the first time a little girl falls off her horse, but it also presents her with a choice: will she cry, and sulk, and curse that mean old horse for letting her fall, and vow to never go near one again? Or will she cry until she learns that eventually the pain fades, and get back up and try again, and slowly but surely learn how to avoid making the same mistakes until she never falls again?

Though I must say, it's a bit harder to get back up from emotional pain than it is to recover from the physical sort. That's...rather what I'm trying to do now, I think. I'm afraid I'm still not very good at it, either.

I really am so very sorry to everyone I might've--menaced when I thought I was a pirate the other day. Even without the fact that I went around calling myself "Morgan the Lurch" the whole day, I do hope it was quite clear that I really wasn't myself, and didn't know any better at the time, and if I had I certainly wouldn't have done some of the things I did. I really am so very terribly sorry, and so absolutely mortified, too.

There was a silver lining to the whole ordeal, though, even though I admit I didn't discover it until I, er, tripped over it on my way home. Duo, are you settling in well so far? When you feel you've slept your fill, do let me know, and I'll make you anything you like to eat when you're ready for it.

Oh, and Neil, I finally finished your story! I do hope you like it; I'll send it over in just a minute.

( Attempted Private to Neil | Accidentally Viewable to Friends )

Current Mood: embarrassed

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So the deities would have us write about equivalence, now, is that it? What an odd sort of request, and especially one that follows a weekend where people were cursed to buy and sell each other as though we were all up for auction. What is a person's worth in gold--or rather, in colored coins, as the case happens to be around here? What would one pay, in exchange for the gift of their time or attention? What it comes down to, really, is asking the measure of a person, and using the coin as a standard for comparison between one or another. What is their equivalent, in blues or violets or indigos?

I wasn't up for auction, and thank goodness for that, but if I had been, I think I would've asked that my price be set in something other than coin. I'd like very much to know my worth in roses, perhaps, or in sweets, or in poems. It's more fun that way, after all, and admittedly a bit more romantic, too.

Equivalence is the sort of thing that comes up often in fairy tales. Indeed, it almost seems to be the sort of thing that drives them, at times--a princess trades her life for that of her kingdom, because a dragon demands a sacrifice and its due must be paid. A king asks his daughters to equate their love for him to material things, and grows angry with his youngest when she merely states that she loves him as meat loves salt. Elves trade craftsmanship for dinners, a king trades the hand of his daughter in marriage for a feat of great courage, or the solution to a problem, or the revelation of a secret.

"Find out where my daughters go every night, as they wear holes through all their shoes, and you may have the pick of them as your wife. But if after three nights you have failed, you shall lose your head," as the king in one tale said.

But is it right, equating one thing to another that way? Is a princess's hand in marriage really worth a secret? Is a failure to uncover that secret worth an execution? Is one person's life worth another's? And what standard can be used to say, either way? Who has the right to make that decision?

They're interesting questions to ponder. And goodness knows, anyone that has ever made a trade with one of the deities here has had to grapple with these sorts of questions, as well. How many memories does it take to equal an object we desire? How much suffering in this moment will equal our satisfaction in the future?

And of course, there's still the question of whether or not all this pondering is equivalent to a token that, according to the deities, will allow us to buy our freedom from a single curse. Are thoughts alone, offered while uncursed, equal in worth to the chance to escape a curse that I don't want to suffer? There's no telling if it will be or not, I suppose, since I'm not one of the deities and they're the ones that will make that decision, one way or another. But I'd like to think that the time I've invested in pondering them is worth the chance that I might earn one, just the same.

And perhaps that was the whole point of having us write about equivalence, after all.

Current Mood: thoughtful

"Did you have a nice nap?" the handsome prince remarked dryly as he helped the formerly sleeping princess to her feet, "This is the third time this month you've gotten yourself into this sort of peril, you know."

"Well, it's not as though I go around trying to ruin spells that might very well sentence me to sleep for a hundred years," the princess retorted, pulling her hand away once she was securely back on her feet and beginning to fuss over the condition of her dress instead. "And besides, this is the first time I've tried this particular spell, so I really don't know what sort of peril you might be referring to, anyway."

The prince shrugged. "That's true," he agreed. "The last time, you'd turned yourself into a frog by mistake, and the time before that, you'd trapped yourself behind a mirror on accident. And every time, I've come to set you free."

He paused, giving the princess a knowing look. "And I've done so in exactly the same fashion each time, as it turns out."

"I really don't know what you might be getting at," the princess answered, a little too quickly, and immediately discovered the tips of her glass slippers to be terribly interesting and worthy of staring at. Her cheeks were turning as rosy as her namesake. "Well! In any case, there's no sense in standing around in this cave all day. Er. Shall we go?"

"Princess," said the prince, gently reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear, "While I'm admittedly rather flattered at the lengths you were willing to go to make the point, if you wanted me to kiss you, all you had to do was ask."

The princess's gaze flew up to meet his; her eyes were wide and blue as the afternoon sky. "You knew?"

"You're hardly subtle, your highness," the prince replied, attempting to feign an innocent look and failing miserably. At that moment, it seemed that it was all he could do to keep from grinning outright.

The princess rolled her eyes in a highly undignified way. "Must you ruin everything?" she snapped, folding her arms over her chest. When his knowing smile was her only reply, she huffed her annoyance and stormed toward the mouth of the cave in as ladylike a fashion as she could muster.

But before she made it more than two steps, the prince caught her arm and pulled her into his embrace, settling one hand comfortably against her waist as the other found its way into her hair. "Need you even ask?" he teased, but his tone held no hint of mockery, just a murmur of amusement and affection. "Now, do come here."

"Honestly, one of these days I'll succeed at being properly nefari--" the princess began to grumble, but found herself quite unable to finish her sentence as the prince leaned in and captured her lips in a thoroughly satisfying and long-overdue |

...

Oh, honestly, this had better not have just gone up on the Network.

Current Mood: writing

( Private List of Ships//Hackable by Friends )

You know, I'm really quite aghast at the way everyone is carrying on today. Honestly, going around telling people you "ship" them with someone else, pairing them up into all sorts of different matches and whatnot? It's absolutely ridiculous!

Everyone knows that a pairing isn't a real pairing unless it has a name.

Really, it makes things so much simpler! Why go to all the trouble of saying you ship Blue and his trumpet together when it's so much more convenient to just call yourself a "Swingshipper"? Then everyone knows what you're talking about, and it saves so much time, too. Not to mention it's much easier to declare war on a rival shipper when they have a proper name for themselves. Really, let's at least try to maintain some semblance of order today, hmm?

Perhaps what we ought to do is contrive some sort of master list that everyone can contribute to. That'd be a perfect way to keep everything straight, and then we'd all have a single resource to refer to. It'd make an excellent addition to the Library, too, I think! Yes, I think that sounds like a fine way to spend the day, so that's what I'll do.

Oh, and I don't want to hear another word out of you Threadshippers today, either. I don't know whatever could've given you the idea that it's a viable ship, but there's absolutely no foundation for it, no matter how often you make claims of "UST" and "Foe Yay" and whatnot. So please do leave it alone, won't you?

[OOC: Ahahaha, I couldn't resist. If there is one thing that fandom has taught me, it is that ridiculous ship names are mandatory to the success of any pairing. Feel free to contribute your own, too--she's serious about that master list idea. Yay awkward!]

Current Mood: determined

Entry the One Hundred and Thirty-Eighth
In which Her Royal Highness Princess Rosella finds herself in distress, which is normal, and shortly thereafter drops a bag of peas on her head, which is not.
Once upon a time, in a rather strange land known as the City, there lived a princess with quite a bit on her mind--which was only to be expected, really, from living in a place like the City for so very long. She had made plenty of friends in her time spent there, and she had been through many curses, and that made for a great number of things to think about, especially for someone who, to be perfectly honest, often thinks about things too much, anyway.

As she made her way through the aisles of the little grocery shop, listening to the pleasant click of her shoes on the floor and scouring the shelves for the items she wanted, the princess let herself drift into thought. She'd had a lovely evening the night before, attending a surprise party for the eighteenth birthday of one of her dearest friends, and soon there would be another birthday to celebrate, for another dear friend. And of course, Giving Thanks--or rather, Thanksgiving, she quickly amended with a touch of embarrassment--would be coming up soon, as well. Yes, there were plenty of good things to look forward to, she mused, and placed a bag of flour into her basket.

But alas, her thoughts soon turned to other considerations, and these were ones of the not-so-pleasant variety. Many of the people she cared about had seen friends sent home lately, and while she knew all too well that there was really nothing she could do to fix it, she still felt guilty and worried for them. And then there were her own worries--ones that had been piling up, bit by bit, over the course of a few months now, that she had been trying to ignore and determined to overcome. So many calamities had occurred, arriving every few weeks, and while she always did her best to recover from the horrors of those calamities, she was also aware that she hadn't shaken those horrors completely.

As she added a bag of apples to her basket and then went in search of the yeast, she let her mind drift over the memories of the prison, of the loss of her heart, of the cannibals and monsters that October had brought about, and finally to the horror of her encounter with Lolotte in the pumpkin patch. The joy of seeing her family the previous weekend had helped to counter a great deal of the sadness and uncertainty these events had brought about in her, but unfortunately, countering sadness did not necessarily mean eliminating it entirely, and the princess knew all too well how the City seemed to thrive on misery. She had vowed that it would not extract any out of her in the month of October, and she took a measure of rebellious pride in the fact that she had succeeded in keeping her vow.

However, this was now November, and she had no such vow for this month to help get her through.

(And, of course, had she known there was a curse on this particular day, she might've chosen to put these thoughts off for a later time, so as not to broadcast them all over the Network. But alas, it was not to be.)

Perhaps it was just that the coming of winter made it harder to keep her mind on light and cheerful things, she mused, dropping two packets of yeast into her basket. It was difficult to be anything but cheerful in the spring, when the days grew warm and the flowers came out and the whole world seemed to come back to life again. Now was the time for bundling up against the cold and building fires to keep warm--the normal fires, preferably, ones kept to the hearth and not to couches or straw dolls--and with the evenings coming sooner and sooner, perhaps it was only natural to be a bit gloomy. And at that thought, her optimistic spirit briefly surfaced, and she thought that perhaps she'd just have to hang on that much more tightly to the things that did make her cheerful, to combat the gloominess. It may not be easy, she mused, but she had never let things being difficult stop her before.

All these things she considered as she absently reached for a bag of peas, straining on her tiptoes to pull it down with the use of two fingers, and it was then that the princess learned her lesson about why one should always pay careful attention when retrieving heavy bags of peas from very high shelves.

Current Mood: grumpy

Well! That was certainly an exciting week; it seems that modern camping is quite a bit different than the sort of camping that I'm used to. Of course, I suppose that the camping I learned about back home had considerably more to do with necessity and survival than the sort we just did this past week, so likely that made quite a bit of difference. We certainly brought more things with us on the trip than I ever could've hoped to carry around with me, back home.

Still, it was nice, in its own way, to have a nice warm bag to sleep in, rather than just finding a clear patch of ground and making do with a pack for a pillow. And I can see how having matches along would make starting a fire considerably easier, rather than doing it with a few pieces of flint. The tent, though...I rather think we might've been better off just coming up with our own, rather than fussing around with the one we did end up taking. Those directions were terribly difficult to follow, all rods and connections and all manner of things.

But all in all, I think it was quite fun! Enough so that it seems I completely forgot to turn on my Network device these past few days, but I suppose that's all right, really. It was quite a relaxing little adventure.

...Well, except for the parts where Sam nearly set himself on fire, those weren't very relaxing at all. But for the most part, it was relaxing.

And it gave me plenty of time to finish my book! I'm glad the Library was so insistent that I take it; it was a wonderful adventure to read, with intrigue and plots and vengeance, murder and love and damsels in distress and plenty of history and treasure and pirates and even a princess. And there were all sorts of villains, too--a miser and a traitor and a corrupt judge and a poisoner and thieves and oh, what a story! I did have to stop a few times to ask Sam to explain something I didn't understand, but that was usually in the beginning, and once I got further into the plot, it was easier to keep track of what all was going on. And now I can't wait to read it over again! I'm sure it'll be just as exciting the second time as it was the first.

But for now, it's nice to be back at home in my room, too. It's funny how accustomed I've grown to being here in the Warehouse with all the contraptions and cars and things, really. Still, I suppose after a year of living here, that's only natural, isn't it?

Current Mood: content

( Private//Hackable by Friends )

I can't help but wonder if August is just a month for divisive, personality-altering curses. My least favorite curse occurred in August, I recall--just a few weeks after my arrival here, in fact. It was oddly fortunate that it happened so soon, though, since from that point on, I was always able to look at the new curses that came and say, "Well, yes, this is bad...but it's not as bad as that one, not nearly so bad as that one." But we've had two now, so far--one that forced us to forgive our enemies, whether or not we wanted to and whether or not those enemies deserved forgiveness at all, and one that turned our friends into enemies, and enemies into friends--and it's only the first week of the month. If bad things come in threes, then there ought to be one more on its way. Still, I do hope it won't, and sometimes hope is all we have to cling to in this place.

I'm glad I wasn't cursed yesterday. I'd feel so horrible about it today...and no amount of apologies would be able to alleviate the guilt, I think. But for those that were, or those that knew friends that were, I do hope we'll all try to remain understanding in its aftermath. To let a curse destroy a friendship because the cursed friend didn't know any better at the time...it's horrible, and wrong, and...sometimes even heartbreaking.

August was the month when I realized the importance of not holding a person's cursed actions against them, after all.

But of course, there's no sense in dwelling on the bad things. I picked up a new book at the Library today--or rather, the Library picked it out for me, since I honestly think I shelved it four separate times during the course of the day, and it kept finding its way back to me until I finally just put it in my bag to bring home. It's quite long, too; it seems to be an adventure story about a man that's thrown into prison for a crime he never committed, and who then later escapes and sets about avenging himself on the three men that were responsible for causing such a misfortune to befall him. It sounds wonderfully interesting, even if I have to keep looking up words and terms they use that I don't quite understand. But in any case, I'm learning from it, and I think it'll be an exciting read.

Revenge is a strange thing, isn't it?

[OOC: The book is, of course, The Count of Monte Cristo, because I am a huge dork and love it to bits. Also, for the first time in months, she's deliberately left her filters off--testing the waters to see if she needs them anymore.]

Current Mood: thoughtful

[Attempted Private to Neil//Public Due To Curse]

Dear Neil,

Last month we got to talking about fairy tales, and I ended up promising to write one for you; well, after a few failed attempts, I think I've finally come up with one that I like. It's rather rough in places, I'm afraid, but do keep in mind that it's my first try at this, won't you? And in any case, I had fun with it, so I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed dreaming it up.

It's a story about a princess, of course, and a very wicked witch, and a--well, I ought to just let you read it and see for yourself, shouldn't I? I'd hate to spoil the surprise! But please do let me know if you like it--I'd like very much to hear what you think!

It's called "The Prince With the Midnight Eyes".

~Rosella

P.S. Yes, the bards are meant to be you and Todd.

---

( OOC Cut: 'Once upon a time a princess lived in a castle with her father, her mother, and her many older sisters...' )

[OOC: It's official: I'm a huge dork. The riddle in the story is lovingly adapted from a riddle appearing in King's Quest VI because I am uncreative, and the cut is there solely to save your friends lists. Also, YES, THIS POST IS FAIR GAME FOR FOURTH-WALLING, come Saturday! ~~Though I will be posting for her that day, too.~~]

Current Mood: pleased

( Private//Hackable by Friends )

[Filtered from Alexis Hargreaves | Blue's Codes | Unhackable]

It's really quite something, how time seems to fly by, isn't it? Sometimes it's hard to believe I've been here over ten months now, or that I've been rehearsing my lines for the play for almost two, or that I've been eighteen years old now for just a little under three. But that's just how things go, isn't it? Time never stops moving, and we all go right along with it.

Of course, on the other side of things, it's only a few weeks left until the play! Which means I can begin feeling a little nervous about it, I suppose. I know there really isn't any reason to be, since we've all been practicing so much and I'm sure I'll remember all my lines when the time comes to perform. It's more of a nervous excitement, I suppose, that comes with the opportunity to try something new and different that one's never done before.

Oh, and speaking of practicing for things--Neil, we've got just under two weeks to be ready for Blue's swing dance competition. I know we'll end up doing just fine, of course, but practice makes perfect! And it's always fun to dance, anyway.

Still, I think it'd be better if practicing--or any errands, for that matter--waited until tomorrow. I'm not sure if this is a curse or something else entirely, but people seem to be acting very strangely today. ~~To put it nicely.~~ I stumbled across a jeweler's shop the other day and I was hoping to go run an errand there this morning, but I ended up being delayed because two men in leather clothes decided to have some sort of swordfight in exactly that location, and they were throwing knives and firing guns, I think, and smashing windows and all sorts of awful things--lots of kicking and yelling and all that. Honestly, what a mess! I left as quickly as I could, after seeing it, and I think I'll be finding a different jeweler to go to now, besides.

Oh, and I overheard someone else saying something about an infestation of snakes underground? I've always found having a flute around can be particularly helpful when faced with a snake, myself; oftentimes the rhythm of music can charm one into a temporary hypnosis.

[OOC: And let's pretend this went up earlier in the evening. DX]

Current Mood: perplexed

( Private//Hackable by Friends )

[Filtered from Alexis Hargreaves | Blue's Codes | Unhackable]

Well, that party at Victrola was...certainly an interesting way to spend an evening, wasn't it? Thank you for offering me the invitation, Blair. And thank you, also, to everyone I spoke with that evening, too; I very much appreciated the company. It was particularly lovely to make your acquaintance, Captain Kirk, and I do hope we'll have the occasion to speak again sometime soon.

But now it's back to the usual routine, it seems, and that's all right with me. Summer is coming, the weather is beautiful, and it's already June. Come to think of it, that means as of tomorrow, I'll have been here...ten months. Goodness, sometimes it really doesn't seem like it's been ten whole months ~~but then other times it feels like it's been years~~. But it's nice, isn't it? I've made so many friends and gotten to do so many lovely things since I've been here.

There's a story in one of my fairy-tale books about a princess who was very stubborn and very spoiled, and whenever her father would bring a suitor before her, she would find something about him to ridicule. Finally, along came a young king, and he too the princess ridiculed, mocking him and calling him by a nickname that made fun of the beard he wore. And so she would have none of them for her suitor. But then her father the king found out about all this, and he vowed--and this is always the troublesome part in fairy tales, isn't it? Making a hasty vow--that he would have his daughter marry the first man that came through the doors the next day, no matter who it was.

The next day, a minstrel came along and happened to be the first man through the doors; the princess cried and cried at her misfortune, but her father was firm in his oath, and had them married. Then the minstrel took the princess away from her palace and brought her back to his own home. Along the way, they passed fields and fields of beautiful lands, and when the princess asked who such lands belonged to, her husband told her that they were the lands of the same young king she'd mocked for his beard--and that all those lands would've been hers, too, if she'd married him rather than ridiculing him.

When they reached the minstrel's hut, the princess was aghast because it was so small and rough and not at all the sort of place she was used to, and there were no servants to tend to her needs; she'd have to look after herself. And eventually, her husband told her that she would have to start working herself, to ensure that they'd have enough money to survive. So she tried selling pottery, but a drunkard passing through the marketplace on horseback accidentally ran into her wares and smashed them all to bits. Crying, she told her husband what had happened, and he arranged for her to work as a kitchen maid in a nearby castle--the castle of the young king she'd mocked, that might've been hers if she'd married him rather than ridiculing him.

But eventually, the princess realized that she had a duty to do her part to help them survive, and so she went to work in the castle, even though she was ashamed of her position and the fact that she was working in the very castle of a suitor she'd scorned. But she worked, and she did her best, and they managed, she and her husband the minstrel.

Finally, one day, she received word that the young king was having his wedding celebration that day, and the head servant gave her orders to deliver the wedding cake. Afraid that the young king would see her face and recognize her, the princess held the wedding cake high as she carried it, so that it would cover her face. But just as she walked into the grand hall with it, she tripped and fell, completely ruining the cake--and she began to cry, not because of her own misfortune, but because she'd ruined the young king's wedding day with her clumsiness. But then, to her surprise, someone helped her up and dried her tears, asking her why she was crying on her own wedding day; when she looked, she realized it was the minstrel standing before her, but dressed in the garb of the young king. He explained, then, that he had masqueraded as the minstrel, and as the drunkard in the street, in order to humble her spirit, punish her arrogance, and teach her compassion for others. The princess thanked him for it, and they were married properly, and that's the end of the tale.

I wonder, though, about that princess and her young king. It's one thing to teach her compassion, after all, and perhaps she did deserve to have her arrogance punished. But to break her spirit...well. I'd like to think that the young king might've loved her for her spirit. But of course, it's only a story, isn't it?

Goodness, I've certainly written a lot today, haven't I? It's a good thing I was in the mood for it, I suppose!

Oh, and if I might ask, now that I've told my story--does anyone know the name of a good jeweler? I'm looking for one that's good at setting stones, please.

[OOC: This tl;dr post brought to you by the letter Kanda Yuu, who decided to complain to Rosella about writing too much on her last post. Yes, she's doing it on purpose. I, however, apologize for it. >> Also, if your character was at Victrola last night and wants to say they saw her or talked to her there, I'm open to assuming!]