(Untitled)

[allsweetflowers]

It is so cold, so very very cold, in this place... I feel I have fallen into a pit of ice, and the clinging arms, the fingers, claws, to drag me down, it is filthy with eyes and teeth...

There are too many people, and none to do more for me but look and stare and laugh and claw and cold so cold...

Comments

[permanent_blur]

i'm not very fond of it, either.

would you like something warm to drink?

[allsweetflowers]

*hesitantly, shiveringly, tremblingly*

I think-

I think, perhaps, I--

....I think I rather would, perhaps. I think I would.

[permanent_blur]

*still has a cup of hot chocolate, with steam floating in the air and white little marshmallows floating in the drink, and holds it out for her, smiling* there you are, then.

[allsweetflowers]

*takes the cup, timidly, from his hand, holding it between her palms as though it were a frightened bird* I thank thee...

[thanitohercules]

*very, very quietly (what is there to say? to her, to her--) and very gently, drapes a cloak about her shoulders, freeing her hair from beneath it*

[allsweetflowers]

*She starts, staring up at him with flat eyes, and trembling fingers - cold and thin - reach up to pluck at the cloak*

*uncertainly* You are kind, sir. You are... thank you.

[thanitohercules]

*he keeps his hands steady as he strokes her hair, as he presses her shoulders gently to give her warmth*

*to himself, he whispers 'Nay, I am not so' but to her, simply:* Any desires else?

[allsweetflowers]

"If I could beg a kiss," she murmurs, bone-thin fingers still fidgeting at the cloak's edge. "Oh, a kiss, my lord..."

[norweenish]

*so confused* Are you... okay? Or, well, I guess you're not... I mean... not that I'm really sure what I mean... er... can I help?

[allsweetflowers]

*moans* There are so many eyes...

Please, I... I do not, I do not think I know... I cannot remember -

I have forgotten your name. I have forgotten my name. What's in a name? That which we call a r--

...I have forgotten which play I am in...

...it is very cold, and I feel so very tired...

[norweenish]

Well. I'm Fortinbras, you're Ophelia, if that helps at all.

Do you need a place to sleep? I can find a room for you. And plenty of blankets. And probably a fire. Food, if you need it. Anything. Really.

[allsweetflowers]

...tha'art Ophelia, and I, Fortinbras? Ay, I am King of Norway, then! an' off to conquer the world... *mutters, mostly incoherently, for a moment before breaking off and suddenly staring sharply at him* Sleep, lord? Sleep, gentle Ophelia? I shall sleep in my grave, 'neath the twisting roots of all the flowers...

[truant_horatio]

*softly* Ophelia.

[allsweetflowers]

*is quiet, very quiet, with wide eyes*

...Horatio?...

*all right, not that quiet, then*

[truant_horatio]

*holds a hand out to her, very gently, very slowly (as though he does not mean to frighten her, as though to reassure her) (he is Safe)* *quietly* Ay, me. How art thou, Ophelia?

[allsweetflowers]

*whispers* Good Horatio, kind Horatio, weary Horatio, I am tired and I am cold. Give your hand to me, good Horatio, for I would touch warm flesh-- *takes his hand, clutches it, clings to it*