I am Maeve

nuvarys

Clémence Poésy as Mary Queen of Scots in “Gunpowder, Treason & Plot” (2004)

(SET-1)

lochiels-deactivated20180429

Clémence Poésy as Mary Queen of Scots in Gunpowder, Treason & Plot (2004)

weloveperioddrama

clémence poésy + period drama roles (requested by @fireglazed)

gabrielxturner-deactivated20160

It had to work, Gabriel thought to himself. Surely he could cut a hole in the cloth of the ragged straw mattress on which he slept, or perhaps there was an old bit of a former cloak. Something of the sort: anything that would preserve coin that was much needed for more pressing necessities. Yet that was something to deal with later, and Gabriel pushed it to the back of his mind. First, there was the matter of getting his current supplies home. He feared it would be far too much to ask Maeve to help that much. Gabriel had for many years been the kind of person who would do something outside of his own best interests to avoid imposition.

Teeth lightly holding his lip, so they might not chatter, he removed his cloak, leaving but a thick tunic to protect himself from the weather. Chill immediately wrapped itself around him, causing a rushed exhale. “Here, put them in this, I can carry them home well enough like that.” Never mind being cold. Cold was a constant state: it wasn’t like his cloak had been doing much in the way of keeping him warm in the first place, he tried to convince himself in vain. He didn’t think it was nearly freezing enough to be damaging, should he be out for a short enough time.

gabrielxturner-deactivated20160

She furrowed her brow, seeing him react to the cold. Maeve had grown used to it by now, without a coat or cloak to keep her warm. She barely felt the cold -- though that was hardly a good sign, she had to admit. It was easier just to flat-out ignore whatever was wrong, and she had been doing a fine job of that since childhood.

“I-it’s...it’s a-all right, Sir,” she said in a too-quiet voice. “I-I’m, ah...h-happy to help.” Maeve offered a shy smile and a nod, as though it would be enough to convince him. But she really didn’t want to see him go too long without a coat on. It would be better if she just helped.

#gabriel

She was right, and Gabriel knew it: the basket had been worst for ware for some time, after all, it had only been a matter of time until it broke in some way or another. “I should think this might be able to be repaired, when I return home at least.” As he rest on his knees, cold melting through his trousers against his skin, Gabriel reached to grab something to his far left and put it in the snow beside what else he’d gathered. “Perhaps the bottom of it could be replaced with cloth of some kind.” It wouldn’t be a perfect solution, but it would be better than nothing. However, before Gabriel could go about that, what he had here needed to be hiked to him house.

“Mmh,” she mused. “That c-could work.” It would be easier to simply buy a new basket. The rest of the wicker would only last for so long, and by that point, he would have ruined a piece of cloth that would be better suited for keeping warm than anything else. Nevertheless, she wouldn’t argue with him about his methods. With shaking knees, Maeve stood up and adjusted the things in her apron, making sure they wouldn’t fall out when she started to walk. “Where, ah...w-where were you taking these, s-sir?”

#gabriel

Her first instinct was to protest. Maeve’s own level of comfort mattered very little to herself, and she hated knowing that it would cause others to go out of their way to accommodate her. Anyone who knew her could testify towards how rare it was that she found herself truly comfortable, and it was easier for everyone – at least in Maeve’s mind – if they simply disregarded her.

But she had only managed to get a single stammered syllable out before one of the guards spoke – and doubled her guilt again. She would be inconveniencing Dahlia if Maeve insisted she not leave to avoid any discomfort, but in doing so, she would be late for whatever business needed tending. Submissively, pathetically, Maeve simply nodded. Another time, maybe. She did not know if she hoped for or against a second meeding.

“I, um…y-yes, ma’am,” she stammered, and lowered her head. She bent her knees into a half-curtsy, but the movement hurt to last for more than a second or two. Standing upright once more, she stood still, waiting for Dahlia to excuse her, or to simply leave on her own.

#dahlia #end scene #One for the money ; Queue for the show

“Let us be off to business then, Savrun.” Dahlia looked again towards Maeve, lowering her eyes in her own manner of goodbye while Savrun bowed his head. She could see the curtsy, and the way the girl’s flames rippled, and she had to wonder who or what had stolen Maeve’s health. Having been taught her place amongst the Queen’s serving party, Dahlia urged gently, “Dahlia, please. Good day, Maeve.” A manicured nail tapped Savrun’s wrist and the guard was only too happy to oblige. The two joined Maaor, the other guard, and disappeared eventually from sight.

gabrielxturner-deactivated20160

Understandably quite distracted with his predicament- a broken basket bottom had led his purchases, few as they were, to be scattered across the snowy path - Gabriel had not seen Maeve approached, and when she offered help, he could not help but feel more than grateful. ( Though the beginning of worry that accepting her offer might be imposing somehow was just about ready to inspire hesitance. ) “Help would be much appreciated, if you don’t mind, of course. I’m afraid this has been a rather unexpected accident.”

solonglost-deactivated20160811

Maeve nodded and knelt down, ignoring the pain that came with such actions. “I-it happens sometimes, sir, t-that baskets fall apart. There, ah...” she hesitated, stretching for another object just slightly out of her reach. “T-there isn’t much that c-can be done about it.” She stacked his things on her lap, thinking to scoop them into her apron when she stood up.

#gabriel

ysabeau’s mouth twitches up in a smile, like she’s trying. and she is. smiles usually put people at ease. but maeve — the girl was all angles; she looked like she hadn’t eaten something good in a while — but maeve, she might not like smiles, or maybe just ysabeau’s smile. “are you hungry?” she blurted. she’d done that a lot. there were so many words she hadn’t said, so many that she needed to be said. “i know a back way into the university kitchens. the cooks share if i’m not a bother.” she bit her lip, not sure what would come next, wanting maeve to say yes.

#cookies and well-behaved goats yepyep #ysabeau

The smile did help, actually. Not much, but certainly it brought a sense of comfort to Maeve. She could be sure she wasn’t doing too many things wrong just yet -- or at least, she could hope. But her small hint confidence retreated once more at the mention of food, only to be replaced with panic. Did it show, Maeve thought. Was it clear how little she ate, how little she had? “I--I couldn’t possibly, um...” She couldn’t ask for anything -- it would be unearned, undeserved. Especially from the University cooks, when she took so much from the University already. “I-I don’t want to impose, a-after all, and...a-and I only just borrowed some books; it would be rude to return so soon.”

viciosmomentaneos-deactivated20

“You’re beautiful. Obviously you’re smart. And I can always tell when you’re sad, because you hide behind your defiance when you are. When you’re happy, all of you is happy. Even your hair. You don’t have a mean bone in your body, and I thought they didn’t make them like that any more. You’re funny. When you listen, you look interested. You’re kind. And you wear your heart on your sleeve, which can be terribly intimidating.”

#quote #about maeve #One for the money ; Queue for the show

“E--excuse me, um...” She trailed off awkwardly, still not sure if she should be speaking at all. "Do...d-do you need help with that?”

#wnstarter

Fear. Hardly another trait made itself so obvious in the girl. Dahlia understood; her mistress was a horrible woman and the fact that she traveled with guards of the Queen Crow tended to make people awfully wary of her company. The Norns were right to be scared. Dahlia was, herself, and she was the queen’s prized possession. How many scary tales parents told their children at night were true of Ammut? The servant woman believed them all to be. She had witnessed some, and was smart not to seek answers to the rest.

“Well met, Maeve,” she said with an incline of her head. When the blonde started to speak again but cut herself short, Dahlia’s eyebrows raised, half expressing the girl to continue so that Dahlia would not speak over her. However, no words sounded and so the brunette thought to make clear, “You are under no obligation to remain in my company, nor to speak with me. You are as free as you were. After all, it is not my wish to make you uncomfortable.”

However, Savrun decided for the girl, “Let us leave her be. We have business to tend to, Dahlia.” And unfortunately, when one of the guards insisted, Dahlia was at their command instead. She turned her eyes away, and perhaps there was a flash of unhappiness there, before she excused herself as expected, “Another time.”

#oh that'd be great!#she'll still be afraid bc she's afraid of everything other than goats and bread.#but it'll be fun!#dahlia

Her first instinct was to protest. Maeve’s own level of comfort mattered very little to herself, and she hated knowing that it would cause others to go out of their way to accommodate her. Anyone who knew her could testify towards how rare it was that she found herself truly comfortable, and it was easier for everyone -- at least in Maeve’s mind -- if they simply disregarded her.

But she had only managed to get a single stammered syllable out before one of the guards spoke -- and doubled her guilt again. She would be inconveniencing Dahlia if Maeve insisted she not leave to avoid any discomfort, but in doing so, she would be late for whatever business needed tending. Submissively, pathetically, Maeve simply nodded. Another time, maybe. She did not know if she hoped for or against a second meeding.

"I, um...y-yes, ma’am,” she stammered, and lowered her head. She bent her knees into a half-curtsy, but the movement hurt to last for more than a second or two. Standing upright once more, she stood still, waiting for Dahlia to excuse her, or to simply leave on her own.

adrianxlance-blog

Looking up at the sky, Adrian watched the swirl of a flock of crows whirling in the air above a fishmonger’s stall. They fought and cawed at each other, tearing at fish innards. The sight of such a scene was familiar, yet he felt like he was looking at it with new eyes because he wasn’t focused on protecting Princess Sophia today. “Do you think the birds know when summer will finally return?” If it’ll return. Those were the unspoken words of the question, because Adrian was starting to doubt it ever would.

“Um?” Maeve asked, unsure if she was truly being addressed. She sat apart from the crowd, bare feet tucked inside her frock as she mended a hole in one of her shoes. What an odd question he was asking. If the birds knew...if what she had learned from Cynwrig was true, the Spiders knew best of all. But she wasn’t about to offer up that information without first being asked. “I, ah...I-I don’t...d-don’t know.”

#adrian

The aura was specked with gold, though the color was painfully hard to catch as it flew outside the faded yellow flames. Had Dahlia simply passed on by the girl, she would have never seen it. “A toy?” she repeated curiously, silently debating in her head if she should tell the Queen that Maaor was about to ruin Her good name - and she said this sarcastically in her head - by stealing a plaything from a Norn citizen. The servant decided to save that headache for later. After all, she was unsure the news would not be taken out on herself instead.

“He must be important to you,” Dahlia began, weighing the girl’s actions in her head. “That is all that matters.” She felt Savrun edge her hand closer to himself, a subtle reminder that their time was precious, but Dahlia tapped her finger on his wrist. Just a few more minutes. Too long had she been holed up in a palace that her stubbornness was starting to kick in here in the market square. “And Ma’am is hardly a title befitting my position. You may call me Dahlia. I am a servant to Her Majesty, Queen Ammut. And this is Savrun, one of the Queen’s guards.” Her face turned towards his, but she could make out only the silver-blue aura that waved here and there like some ocean tide.

Savrun dipped his chin without a word before Dahlia gestured after the stone-grey aura which never seemed to flow at all, “And the other guard is Maaor. They are my sword and shield, but more importantly, my eyes.” She turned back to the girl, hoping to discover a life outside the walls, “And you are?”

#sorry it took so long and that it's so short sorry #dahlia

Maeve shrank back immediately. She was of the Southern Isles. And she--she was with guards. Of the Queen Crow. She was a servant of the queen, someone very powerful and awful indeed. Maeve shrank into herself, terrified of what might become of her should she put a single toe out of line. The Caddocks were neglectful, but they were not spiteful. She was terrified of what the Queen Crow’s servants could do.

Clutching Elden to her chest, Maeve glanced about, looking for a way out, but fear kept her rooted to the spot. True, noble individuals could say they wanted to be casual with someone lower than them, but...but Maeve could barely bring herself to say the names of her equals, much less her superiors. She would not even look up from her feet, too frightened of doing something wrong. It was not the punishment that frightened her -- simply the idea of doing something wrong at all.

“M...M-Maeve, ma’am,” she stammered, barely able to speak. “M-My, um....” Her voice trailed off pathetically, but she had said her name nonetheless. Surely, hopefully, that was enough.

The streets of Nore were new to Dahlia. She held the forearm of one of her guards, allowing the other to scout ahead. The one beside her was more gentle in his nature, and Dahlia was sure if he were not under the Queen’s command he would be a fine fellow. However, he had blind trust in the Queen and his want to serve his home overshadowed the curse of perhaps destroying another’s. Still yet, the guard ahead of them was a brute and Dahlia was glad there were days he preferred to do other business than accompany a servant.

When they entered the market square, the unfavorable guard stopped to pick up something under his foot, and therefore halted their trek. When a faded yellow aura appeared, Dahlia’s interest strayed to the individual. After the girl mentioned whatever her guard had in his hand was hers, he replied cruelly, “I think you are mistaken. Carry along, girl.” It infuriated Dalia to say the least. She may have to deal with the torture, but no other would if she could do something. The blind woman commanded the guard, “Give it to her. You forget we are guests here in Nore and it would be disrespectful to our hosts to upset their people. I am sure Her Majesty would agree.” He grumbled before tossing it to the blonde, letting it fall beside her.

“Scout ahead, Maaor,” the guard beside her, Savrun, said. The other was only too happy to do so. Dahlia turned back to the girl, “I must apologize for his behavior. His duty lies in his muscle more than his manners. May I ask what it is he had?” 

#dahlia #oh man you are amazing

Maeve shrank at the brutal tone of the guard. Armed men terrified her more than others, but that wasn’t saying much as a whole. She wanted to flee. To lay down and bare her neck. To surrender entirely. But she needed to get Elden back. She couldn’t live without knowing the tiny troll was safe in her hands.

The woman -- she looked wealthy. Dominating in appearance, but perhaps she was not unkind, as she reminded the man of their position in Nore. Maeve flinched as he threw Elden to her, and she fell to her knees to scoop up the little toy and cradle it to her chest. Relief washed over her, and she felt safe for a few moments until she was addressed again.

“Um--” Maeve pressed her lips together, looked up to the woman. Was she nobility from the South? “H-he’s just a toy, Ma’am. I-it’s not very important.”

clemence-poesy

Clémence Poésy as Queen Isabella in´”Richard II” (in honour of the 400th anniversary of Shakespeare’s death)

alistair-henry

“I suppose there would be no harm in that,” Alistair admitted. He was to be relieved very shortly, and though he was no fan of drinking, hot ale sounded exactly like what he needed (wanted? Alistair wasn’t sure he knew the difference). “I would be honored if you’d accompany me, unless of course you have other duties to attend to.”