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[cagedinflesh]

lockets, compasses or action! or whatever else really

fun roulette, which personality will it be, you just can't know
unless you do know who you want, then say so

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» action

[skjalf]

( Well. Elizabeth turns pale, her lips pressing together firmly as the explanation wears on. This is not at all what she had initially expected to hear. Maybe he had hit his head, or something magical. What he describes is something which at the very least sounds somewhat magical to her, because she does not yet understand science in the least.

There is a sense of irony and déjà vu, for several months ago, she had stood quiet before Dorian, as he admitted a dark secret to her. The Doctor has not sold his soul, so much as divided it in two. Entirely different, and yet entirely the same, because she cannot accept one and deny the other. How can she fault this man, to whom she now feels drawn to by a profound sense of empathy, judge when she, too had put on the smiling face and appearance of a good person whilst harbouring skeletons in her wardrobe?

She cannot. Breathing out levelly, she squeezes his hands once before letting them go. )

I understand. ( She says , simply, and bows her head. ) The situation, your reasons—even him, and his nature.

One day, perhaps, I will explain the why of it to you. Suffice it to say that I walk in darkness as much as do you, and others here. I am not saintly.

And I can do no other than accept you as you are, Henry Jekyll. As my countryman, my liegeman, and my friend. Now and always.

( Taking his hands once again, she smiles softly at him. ) Now, there is no need to take that walk alone any longer.

Re: » action

[cagedinflesh]

[He returns that smile as best he can, bowing his head again. Elizabeth truly is too kind. Being what he is, Jekyll can easily believe it to be truth when she says she has some experience there. But at the same time it still seems beyond comprehension. ]

I wonder if that is not part of the trouble. A dear friend of mine in life was a novelist. He wrote a story after my death of the events surrounding it. Because of that book, I am known throughout the world, and able to be what I am now. I believe it was mentioned briefly, at one point, that I am much older than I appear now, and simply a soul summoned forth. Beings such as myself are called Heroic Spirits, heroes remembered throughout the ages for their greatness. However, I am of a certain sort which are quite the opposite, not remembered for goodness in the least, comprised of and making up all the evils of the world. What's more, the things I have done as Hyde go far beyond simple cruelty, they are not only deviant, they are truly monstrous. This is far more than mere darkness.

[That...most likely sounded far too dramatic.]

The book is here if you have any interest. As much as it is rather embarrassing and shameful for me, there is certainly some pride for my friend's accomplishment.

» action

[skjalf]

You are.. a spirit, then? Immortal? ( Souls are ever that to a Catholic. No matter her relationship with the Almighty, she will never not believe that one's spirit is eternal. And it is a far more pleasant a thing to focus upon than the fact that he is otherwise dead. )

There must ever be a counterbalance. ( She softens her voice, and squeezes his hands. There is no excusing these monstrous things which Hyde has done. But. ) Every story must have a villain as well as a hero, or there can be no story. Hector and Achilles, Theseus and the Minotaur; Cleopatra and Octavian.

I will never excuse these actions he has taken. Nor your enjoyment in them. What I can offer you instead is understand, and forgiveness. Even as I seek both for myself.

( She debates upon whether or not she should speak of her own experience, and decides to, in the end. Not simply because he should know the manner of monarch he has sworn himself to, but also because now that he has offered her a free perusal of his catalogued misdeeds and atrocities, she, also deserves to have her own sins be thus put on display. )

When I was seventeen, my father died. My brother was to be crowned, but never made it to London freely. My mother took my sisters, youngest brother and I into Sanctuary, where Richard surrounded us with soldiers. They came for my brother Dickon, and they believed they had left with him. Neither were ever seen again. I heard Melusina's lament upon the Thames, faintly, like a lullaby. And I knew that whomever had done it, the boys were dead.

My mother and I cursed their murderer's line, so that they might share in our pain by knowing it themselves. And so it shall be. The line of Henry Tudor will end with a virgin girl, and then nothing.

I could never imagine that it would be my line, also. I have cursed my own unborn children, Doctor. Unless I never wed Tudor at all. ( Gently, she takes the book from him, accepting it as she now asks him to accept her. )

That too, is far more than darkness, I suppose. There is no excusing my sins, either.