jacqueline & maixent
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Posted: Aug 30 2015, 05:30 PM
Jaq rummaged through her drawers, feeling like she was a little kid again. Sleepovers were a thing she'd only really done when she was younger, when she hadn't had enough time in the day with her sister — when she wanted to talk about their parents and her schooling and what it'd be like if they got to holiday to the beach sometime and any little thing she could think up because Jaq had idolized her older sister. Still probably did to some extent if she was being honest with herself. Every move Jaq made, she compared to her sister and what would her sister have done if she were still around and mentally sane?
This affair thing with Achilles hadn't been a one night event; it started out as maybe once a week, but now she was up to calling him almost every other night. She was hooked, completely addicted to Achilles' touch like the Caterpillar was to his drugs and smoke. Her most recent holdout had lasted three days before she'd cornered him in a passageway between his room and the training pitch in the middle of the day, taking and feeling before dragging him to his bed. It was heady and distracting and filling her every thought.
It was also exhausting her. She knew, going into it, that affairs weren't easy, but it was so much work when she was actually in one. She had to time her nights with Achilles to match those when Maixent spent the night in his personal room, come up plausible stories when he asked where she'd been during the morning after the few times she misjudged, try really hard to not touch Achilles in public or say anything to him out of the ordinary or basically just call attention to the fact that she was spending more time with him than anyone else.
So rummaging through her drawers she was, looking for her old thick sweater, the last one her mother had made for her before she passed away, and tucked it under her arm before setting off to find Antoinette, because if there was one person who would listen, be empathetic, and swear everything to secrecy, it was the Red Rose.
She gave a cursory knock on Antoinette's door, waited for her invitation in, and slipped in, letting herself sag against the wood when it shut behind her. With a loud exhale, she took in her friend. There was still evidence of her recent encounter with the Jabberwocky and Jaq wanted to scoop Antoinette up in a gentle but supportive hug. For the moment, she stayed propped up by the door, sweater gripped in one hand, and gave a sad, tired half-smile. "Can we talk? I know I haven't been by lately but .... I could really use an ear. And I want to know how you're holding up given recent events."
& now people talk to me I’m slipping out of reach now people talk to me & all their faces blur but I got my fingers laced together & I made a little prison & I’m locking up everyone who ever laid a finger on me - - - - - - - - - - -
Posted: Sep 6 2015, 01:15 PM
Since Tempest had sequestered the Red Rose within her chambers after the initial healing and danger had passed, Antoinette had received few visitors. Qaseem had come by unannounced, and there had been one or two other social calls but most she uncharacteristically turned away. It wasn't vanity that drove them from her door but caution, and shame. She felt embarrassed to be seen this way, and while she wasn't typically a proud or egotistical being- she felt she had a certain standard to keep up. The Red Rose was the Queen's living, breathing sigil; an icon of Wonderland, and to be seen as anything less than perfect could only do harm to both herself, and her beloved monarch.
Yet she could not refuse the Queen. Of course, Antoinette had no way of knowing that it was Jacqueline at the door but something about the knock was familiar- hearkened back to days when the Queen would visit a little more regularly. Privately, the Rose often wondered if Jacqueline didn't feel awfully stifled with so many men around her; she surrounded herself with men, especially now that both sisters were in turn banished from the Palace. In many ways, Antoinette was the closest thing to a sister that Jacqueline had left. Though of course, Antoinette would never dare to suggest such a thing aloud. Such endearments were for the Queen to decide, but deep down- the Rose would always consider Her Majesty to be an honorary sibling. Albeit one of higher standing.
Mercifully she was half dressed- though not for the outdoors. With no intention of leaving her chambers, the Rose had opted for a red silk gown with a high collar to hide the bruises, frilled and tied with ribbon, open at the front to reveal the white slip beneath. It was an indulgent outfit, like most of her attire- but tonight she had aimed to bring herself a little cheer. Her hair had yet to be styled, hanging in loose, almost messy curls about her bruised face- but she'd clearly done what she could with it to hide the cuts and bruises as best she could. To try and mask Warrick's presence on her body.
As the Queen entered, Antoinette smiled- nodding once at the other woman's request. "Of course, your majesty... please make yourself comfortable, and tell me what's troubling you." Her voice was soft as ever as she crossed the room- knowing that even Jacqueline would be subject to the awkwardness all her visitors had shown about touching her, about getting close. With the men she appreciated it, for she certainly didn't want them too close- allowing Qaseem to heal her had taken a lot of internal strength. With Jacqueline, she felt so such fear, no such anxiety in drawing the Queen to her in a warm, if gentle- embrace.
"It's good to see you..."
I've been looking in the mirror for so long. That I've come to believe my soul's on the other side. All the little pieces falling, shatter. Shards of me, too sharp to put back together. Too small to matter, but big enough to cut me into so many little pieces.