Date: 2016-11-22 08:57 am (UTC)
shri: (» another roadblock in our way)
From: [personal profile] shri
She opens her door, poking her head out, staring out over the building in its entirety. What on earth was it? Well, shops, she knew that.

The world had changed, and sometimes it takes her off her guard - not the big things, the small things. This life, what had they lost? One that wasn't hers, that much was easy to say. One in which losing a mother in childbirth stilled them utterly, one where even where they still counted the things they lost and found the temporal difficult, no comfort to them in death when it was time for one to go. These things, certainly, but buildings like this - just taken for granted as normal to them. A place where food could be stored and reached easily. Things that they could have from countries away with little trouble to themselves to obtain. A world fully realised that was not hers and she feels - invasive, almost, when she looks in on it. Like the walls knew she was not supposed to be there. Like she was not supposed to be with there group.

Thoughts for later. She snaps from her thoughts back to him with a uptilt of her face. Her laughter is high and bright, as she meets his gaze, unsheathing the long knife from her back in the soft hiss of a promise. "And I am not even wearing my receiving clothes." Her humour is tinted, shade by shade. "Shall we? It's been a long time since I've held court and I am in a generous mood."
Edited (gets all poetic n shit x2) Date: 2016-11-22 01:27 pm (UTC)

Date: 2016-11-22 11:26 pm (UTC)
shri: (» this is the start)
From: [personal profile] shri
Oh - he just couldn't resist, could he? Her eyes roll her jaw sets and - damn it all if she doesn't feel bad for how sharply she reacted the night before. Usually tried to give an explanation as to why, at least in her own way. Which granted, she'd been informed that her usual approach of 'I'm nearly 200 years old and know better than you', didn't always work as ... diplomatically as it could.

So she swallows it and begins to move with him, not far, a little ahead and a dropped low as she scanned the cars surrounding for walkers. Blade at the ready and her movements steady. "A little, from how I've seen you all make your decisions so far." Admits it, if begrudgingly. "You are thinking of it quite wrongly, I imagine. Not a law court." How had it worked in this country after they had thrown out their King? She struggles to remember it's particulars, other than a complicated system of elections and laws, held in place of the divinity of a ruler's word.

"It was... perhaps like a great chamber of commerce. All men and women poured into the receiving area, to petition or to seek my or my husband's ear, perhaps simply to ask for advice. I dealt with matters usually pertaining to women, up until my husband died, then I oversaw all. There was often a great deal of discussion, though ultimately every decision was my own. My husband and I had the final word on everything that occurred, allowing for certain religious and social moors of course." She comes to a car, and there's a Walker trapped inside. It goes quick, stabbing it sharp in the temple, the wet sound of slicing meat, brain matter soft and rotten, the crunch of bone. Hears it groan, hears its breath ease out in true death.

Date: 2016-11-24 12:38 am (UTC)
shri: (» sparking up my heart)
From: [personal profile] shri
"They were my people. Could I do otherwise?" It comes quick, the response that it had always mean and all that had meant. They were her people, it was her Jhansi and they would never take them from her. There had never been anything else.

They had, anyway. She had never seen her home again. She couldn't bare to go back, she could not bare those memories.

Then she ducks, and she liked - watching him. Watching him fight, watching his precision. The surety he presented when she had not had it for so long. He was steady in way that she had craved so long, that she had not had since - Galahad, since Devi. Swallows, lets him line up the second shot before she darts around the back of the cars, letting him draw their attention before she circles around their back, the one at the far back taken down when she throws the blade, running forward, in the same moment as it hits the ground to yank it free and tackle the one beside it, blade into its head. Pulling herself up as the - woman, it looks like, perhaps she was out shopping.

Date: 2016-11-24 01:07 am (UTC)
shri: (» the gravel and the stone)
From: [personal profile] shri
She walks back to him, the blade cleaned off against her leg in swipes. Shakes her head in response, then carries on past him towards the building. "Being born there doesn't have anything to do with it. It's about a responsibility I had. Whether I liked it or not those people looked to me, a choice I did not get to make freely, either, I was married to the Raj when I was thirteen, and by the time I understood what it meant, I could not walk away from them."

Pauses, as she finishes, and realises where he's lead her back again. Shouldn't have indulged him. A displeased look. Which - shit, she walked right into it, didn't she? A sigh, a little worn at its edges. "Dixon..."

Date: 2016-11-24 01:35 am (UTC)
shri: (» now people talk to me)
From: [personal profile] shri
"You are... you are not..." But that would mean admitting something, anything, and she is in such a habit. Something hurting and raw and smothered down.

Bites it back, sharp and - one of these centuries, she really should have learned to hold her tongue, or to learn to temper her tone. But she hadn't learned it yet, and time didn't seem to do her any favours. Pushes on forward, and frustration with it all means the next walker she finds in the dark dies with more force than she really needs to exert. Furious, bitter, she is too strong and she cleaves it with ease. Splatters it's pieces against her face, her hands, red and thick on her knuckles.

"You have no idea what it is, what they are asking."

Date: 2016-11-24 02:18 am (UTC)
shri: (» the gravel and the stone)
From: [personal profile] shri
She stares at it, she stares at it, she stares at it. It's not moving, it's never going to move again, she's made sure. They need to be burnt, make like the ancient conquerors did like the British did to her people. Burn all behind them so it can never reach them again. She's all fire, all blistering skin.

"For one thing, don't ever ask me such questions in front of others. For another, how do you suppose it looks? A immortal queen being elected. How long before someone accuses me of usurping power? Looking to build a kingdom anew?"

It's pushing back, the many, many things she'd gone over the night before to give him in a list. Which would be much easier if she really was a queen and she could just issue the commands and he'd have to accept them because she'd said so.

Date: 2016-11-24 03:09 am (UTC)
shri: (» i'm speeding up and this is the)
From: [personal profile] shri
"That is how the world has always worked. When no man can be King, everyone tries." Bites it ugly, giving him a look like he's a fool. "This is a hairsbreadth away from the world I grew up and was made to rule. Where who got what was decided by guns and blades."

But - fair. "My point is - it's hardly ... it's not something I should be doing. There's a reason the knights were held away from society, from political sway." She laughs, because in it's way, it's hilarious. "Here I am, from a time that's gone, a queen, in a country that spilled their blood to get rid of them, being elected. It's ridiculous, Daryl."

Date: 2016-11-24 03:29 am (UTC)
shri: (» and the shivers move down)
From: [personal profile] shri
"I am helping our people, is that not enough for you?" It's desperate, pushing, getting her the space she wants for him to leave it well enough alone. Wary, twitching, she's expecting something, a walker - Lord, she wishes for a Lycan, right about now. Anything to end this when he's - looking at her like he has a right to. Like she has to answer him.

Because the rest of them didn't. She's better a fairy story than a person. Better bleeding and not dying than she is having regrets. But he, he never could accept that role from her, could he? Had to push and get in where she never wanted anyone to be again because it was safer.

Date: 2016-11-24 04:59 am (UTC)
shri: (» they used to shout my name)
From: [personal profile] shri
Her head snaps, where he shoots past her and there's an irritated noise for that too. Watching it fall, turning back to him with a scowl on her face. Skittish, skittish animal, waiting for the nearest thing to run from. "Because I have lost every group of people I have dared to call my own, dared to stand for. What makes you think yours will be better served than the ones I was married into, sworn to the gods to protect?"

It's spat out - nothing less than furious that he's gotten the words out. She doesn't care what's waiting for her, bitter and angry and the bile of regrets that is trying to heave out of her. So she ends the conversation the only way she knows how, she seeks out a fight. Easier to walk away from him, to march to that door and let all hell break loose than look at him. Got what he wanted, so now they could be done with it.

Date: 2016-11-24 05:34 am (UTC)
shri: (» they're silver and gold)
From: [personal profile] shri
She marches on, without consideration to what he's saying. "Fall in, we're wasting daylight. Between today and tomorrow we can get three rooms clear, I don't want Judith sleeping outdoors again." Barks it over her shoulder, the conversation is over. She's at the door, hands on it and ready to pull it free. Takes nothing to tug at the door to get it free. "I'll draw them in, you can pick them off."

She waits for whatever response he's going to give, probably curse her for being pigheaded and stubborn.

Date: 2016-11-24 03:01 pm (UTC)
shri: (» my blood is a flood)
From: [personal profile] shri
One moment, she is all forward movement, ready to yank the door open and ignore whatever he might say.

But then he does, and she stops, utterly. The wary way she's always twitching, the hissing words, all of it. Rather what she says, hangs, full as summer air with its weight. The words hang and she doesn't move. Silent, silent, silent, empty, empty, empty.

The other side of the braced doors, the Walkers groan, they ache and claw and splatter and moan in their undeath, seeing her movement, seeing without seeing and in turn she watches them, their teeth scratching at the glass, their rotted flesh smearing lines. Just one more monster, just one more nightmare. Not afraid, not even horrified when she looks at them. What are they but lycans of another time? Once more Jhansi is in flames, once more the halfbreeds pour over the fields and devour everything in their path, the impoverished feasted upon and feasting as they turned.

Her farmhouse, and how he'd torn her from it, the cyclical home that is lost as she ties herself to it. Patterns that repeat themselves, no, no it's not him. Here is not here. He is Sir Bors de Ganis. Here is the walls of her fortress, Sir Bors is at her feet, there is blood tacky and thick in her hair and her fingers grip her blade so tightly, she doesn't know how she'll ever let it go. This morning is a night a hundred years ago where she's told she has a purpose that isn't just martyrdom. Where there are things at stake that are cannot be done by mortal means alone as the vial Sir Bors presses into her hands, is warm from the skin of a dying man who tells her what must be done. She'd accepted it then, terrified, but she had.

The words are quiet, missable even, as they come. "Fine - fine, you have your wish."

She's still not looking at him and - fine.

The only movement is steadying, setting herself both feet to the ground, her shoulders in a military straight line, pride stinging enough to make the words come out, where she isn't sure how to make them move otherwise. "But my condition is that you go, now. Leave me. I'll clear this out myself, bring the others the day after tomorrow. I'll work faster without another anyway. I just... need time to think."

Date: 2016-11-27 10:10 pm (UTC)
shri: (» are too vicious to tell)
From: [personal profile] shri
He was a damned fool, an idiot, a drunken, moronic, stupid - and how dare he? How dare someone as evidently thick in the head not listen to her when she was giving him what he wanted. That was the point. He was looking to get himself killed, and it wouldn't be from a walker: it would be her. She would get fed up one day and she would put one of his own bolts through his eye if he insists on being like this with her. She didn't need him treating her like this. Like her company was so necessary, or like she was half so human as him, more than any of them put together. Everyone else was content to just touch her expecting marble, and she pretended she didn't see the disappointment when they found her a person.

She'd never understand why he treated her differently. After all, he'd seen her heal, he knew what she was capable of coming back from.

Dixon must mean stubborn as an ass, and no one had told her, laughing at the immortal queen that didn't know what a iphone was or whatever it was this time. Give her time, she'd work it out.

He's an idiot, an idiot and she's leaving him in the woods on the way back. She doesn't need to stay with him, she can make a point once and for all that she didn't need any of them, and maybe, he'd leave her be.

( That she craves, that she wonders at - she shoves deep, below the virulent curses of him and his name and his father before him and any children that she'd die for, that she promises to see to, after him. Because it shakes her - when he just goes running off, the way he fights beside her. She expects, even now, for them to fall back to just let her do it. What did they care if an immortal got shredded limb from limb? They could grow them back, after all.

It was how it worked for centuries. Why didn't he just fall in line like everyone else? )

None of which, things she's willing to accept and the calling him stupid at the back of his head, come out of her mouth. Rather, she rushes into that room with a comfort and an ease as she tackles the first walker, and lets it take a bite. If it's too busy tearing into her flesh, they don't see her blade come down for their head. The next one goes down with a kick to the head, the one after that has its arm torn off and a piece of glass shoved through its skull. It goes and goes and goes in a violence of its own art, its own brutality. That takes chunks out of her and she kills off the stab of pain that she finds so necessary.

( Because she never worries that he might shoot her in all this, she trusts him with her life as it might be, and that's what she'd never say, that she needs that kind of comfort. that she might need anything at all, she has stopped even considering. )

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