𝐍𝐎. 𝟗 ❛ 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 ❜ | THE DEN & LEONOR'S APARTMENT, MID MARCH 1991
❧ 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 / 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 / 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 / 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.
❛ Outside the bar, a handful of photographers had greeted them upon their departure; stragglers who followed Leonor’s car across the city turned away only when they reached the private garage at Kore’s condominium. The car idled inside while Leonor implored her to have a sleepover. This idea struck her no sooner than as the driver shifted into park but, once it had, she was insistent. Tomorrow wasn’t a workday for Kore. Although a dedicated partier, she was responsible enough to build in a buffer of sorts. Leonor, meanwhile, couldn’t bear the possibility of the night ending. Riding home in an empty backseat, shuffling into a dark apartment, falling unceremoniously into bed … If Kore spent the night, the fun lived on. Even when they promptly crashed, it would be together. It would be only after at least an additional hour or two of aimless chatter and laughter—perhaps with vomiting or hair-braiding in between. Kore relented, and the car soon sped out of the garage and past the sole lingering observer.
❧ moving on, moving forward ! curious as to what y'all're noticing and thinking as we wrap things up ... additionally, family time soon :^) did anyone else forget leonor isn't an only child or just me—
𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝 & 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 ↓
They fell asleep as the sun rose, and Leonor awoke well into late morning with the slow, foggy realization that she was missing something. She stumbled out out of the bedroom and directly into Vita, who had been stationed nearby awaiting this very moment. Vita met Leonor’s alarm with reassurance. Having preternatural foresight, or likely just common sense, she anticipated the princess may have difficulties arriving on time for the day’s big obligation. So, she had made the necessary calls. Leonor nodded as if in a trance, attempting to wrap her mind around, not that it was handled, but that something immense loomed over her. The impossibility of it was splashed across her face as she returned to the bedroom—enough for Kore to notice and make an inquisitive expression in response. Leonor, slumping to the bathroom, waved it off as she passed her.
By the time they sat down for breakfast, rehashing the night’s escapades presented a welcome distraction. The sun was too bright on the balcony, but Leonor saw only the inescapable image of Mateo’s disappointed scowl when she closed her eyes. If she could laugh a little more with Kore before she departed—before she left the safety of her apartment to reenter her mother’s house, her own childhood home, where her brothers would be waiting—then she would put all of her focus on doing so.
Kore wanted to be serious, initially, however. It was understandable. Leonor nonetheless resisted the idea of analyzing her behavior and putting it some, any, kind of context. Her intention had been to shake off the oppressive languor, and she had succeeded. She said yes to Kore's invite and everything thereafter. If she had also wanted to be serious, she would have admitted what she told Renzo and acknowledged its explanatory power: nothing mattered anymore. It was easy to agree to every proposition if the consequences were immaterial. It wasn't a conscious declaration, but it was a visceral feeling blooming inside of her. Leonor had stepped out of the mourning period and into free-fall. If there was ground to hit, she couldn’t see it. She couldn’t feel it. It wasn’t that it didn’t exist; it did, but the threat of impact didn’t inspire anything in her. Once, it would have terrified.
In this new reality, whether permanent or transitory, indifference was the baseline to which she returned. She dreaded facing her brothers amid their mother’s belongings because it would replace the emptiness with something more durable than last night’s euphoria had been. She grinned and chuckled with Kore now, remembering the night with fondness, but those feelings were fading already. Her apathy receded only to flood in anew. Later, in the aftermath, the grief would sneak up on her. It would cast a shadow as she held items imbued with memories in her hands, promising to curl and crest and crash. When it did crash over her, it would be, not while she was in the house alongside Mateo and Gil, but when she was alone again. It would be expected but unpredictable. It would be familiar yet somehow, as had been the case for weeks, feel so raw as to be entirely new. Then, it would be over, and she would be left beached and inert while life carried on around her.
Leonor comforted herself as she dressed for the day with a rosier pronouncement of the future: Renzo’s hideaway wasn’t a dream, and she could retreat there in search of a jolt of excitement anytime she liked.
TRANSCRIPT:
LEONOR | It’s not like that, Kore.
KORE | Lying through your teeth! Maybe for someone else—
LEONOR | That’s so unfair.
KORE | [Laughs] Don’t even dispute it. Whoever that was last night, I’ve never met her before. Doesn’t mean I didn’t like her! I did. I wouldn’t mind seeing her again. However—
LEONOR | I can’t explain it. It’s cliche. I just—possibly for the first time ever—didn’t think too much about what I was doing and had fun.
KORE | Good euphemism for fucking a stranger in a public bathroom—
LEONOR | I wasn’t talking about just that, but—
[Both laugh]
KORE | Seriously, though. I mean it. I wasn’t trying to play matchmaker. That wouldn’t be good for you right now, especially so soon after how things ended with—
LEONOR | [Groans] Will you listen to me? That wasn’t even the highlight of the night. I thought you’d be proud.
KORE | [Chuckles] It’s just hard to believe, that’s all. You’re not unfun, but you definitely aren’t, you know, easygoing.
LEONOR | I know. It was like a dream. But you know what?
KORE | Hm?
LEONOR | You better get used to it. I’m changed. Different now.
KORE | [Laughs] Oh, someone had too much fun! Whoever dragged you out of your depression den deserves something nice for her efforts—maybe a roomful of roses or a new watch!
LEONOR | Not a matchmaker, she says, and yet …
KORE | I now pronounce you Princess Nora and Princess Nora’s New Favorite Hangout Spot.
LEONOR | Ripped from tomorrow’s headlines, I’m sure.
KORE | The nice ones.
[Leonor scoffs]
LEONOR | [Sighs] … I should leave.
KORE | You’re already late—at least eat your breakfast.
LEONOR | I did.
KORE | You pushed it around the plate. Take some fruit to go?
LEONOR | I’ll see you later this week. Thanks for staying with me last night. Hang out as long as you like, okay?
KORE | I hope it goes well. Give the boys my best wishes.
❛ Leonor had attended a recital just the day before, but this performance was an entirely different experience. She was unprepared for how arresting it would be. Without knowing, she had noticed the lead singer earlier that night, ostensibly holding court by the far edge of the bar, distracting the bartender with animated conversation. Leonor hadn’t heard anything she said, but her movements were full of energy, almost frenetic. Now, she held still. The bassist swayed from hip to hip. Behind them, the drummer stared out at the audience with a face full of shadows. Leonor thought the frontwoman resembled a pious statue as she stood there, chin tilted upward and eyes closed. The crowd hummed with impatient anticipation, but what she reflected back to them was unfazed tranquility.
𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐠𝐞 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧
❧ (the song here, as you perhaps could have guessed from the episode title, is meant to be "doll parts" by hole.) lightly phoned this one in BUT i'd rather keep moving than skip a week bc i was sick, so :^) this is an abridged version, and i'll post an unabridged version later today w/ a label for good measure !!! additionally, we are now done with the entirely self-indulgent red light filter, i promise sdfsdf
𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝 & 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 ↓
The very first chord sent a chill up Leonor’s spine. She watched, rapt, as the statue came to life in a fluid series of motions. Her voice was low and rough, not ethereal by any means but still somehow, to Leonor’s ears, exquisite. The lyrics washed over her unheard. She fixated wholly on the singing itself—on the emotion of it, how the crooning turned to a harsh quaver, within it a lament that felt more defiant than mournful. It was raw. The song’s inspiration, why this woman performed it as she did, was a mystery. It was the vulnerability of it that resonated. Leonor felt the emotion in her bones as she listened. Music was never her preferred outlet but, as she experienced the song, she wished it had been.
For these three minutes, Leonor was alone again. The stage’s pit had been packed with an eager, noisy audience that responded enthusiastically to every line of the song. As it became a concert for one, they faded. Leonor’s eyes followed the movement of the singer, how her lips parted and her fingers strummed the guitar she played. They existed together in a suspended moment outside of time. It might have occurred to her later that extending, even possessing, such a moment was well within her power. For enough money, she could have anyone’s private time—especially artists, people who needed and understood patronage. It wasn't it in the spirit of the venue, but neither was her very presence, arguably. However, she was entirely in the moment as it unfolded. Feelings welled up inside of her. Her skin prickled. Her eyes, too, felt the familiar sensation attendant to being overwhelmed.
Still, even euphoria had a blush of grief these days.
The song ended, and the bar's spirited ambience rushed back in like a sun-blocking wave. As she began speaking casually to the audience, the singer’s captivating voice changed. Whatever spell she had cast broke. Her friends remained enlivened, but Leonor felt only the desperate need to reclaim the quietude again. The minute of transition between unfamiliar songs felt like too long—too risky—of a wait. Perhaps the night had caught up with her. Or, perhaps, if she ducked into a quiet corner and collected herself, she could resume the admirable attempt at normalcy that had characterized the evening so far. That was her preferred outcome. She knew, on one level, that she was having fun. This momentary lapse wasn’t really an aberration, she feared, but she was determined to treat it as such.
Leonor turned to Kore instinctively, leaning close to exclaim the most convenient and innocuous escape valve within reach, “Where’s the restroom?”
TRANSCRIPT:
RENZO | Okay, settle down. Next up is a treat. The Fluke girls have a new song for us. This is a songwriter’s song, alright? Conceived in this building. Show some respect.
LEONOR | Where’s the restroom?
KORE | Stairs, near the bar!
[Leonor sighs, door opening]
LEONOR | What are you doing here?
LEONOR | Oh—[Laughs]—sorry.
RENZO | It’s a bathroom. Maybe I gotta piss.
RENZO | Hey, don’t leave. I’m kidding. Wanted to check on you.
LEONOR | Really?
RENZO | Sort of. I also had an ulterior motive.
LEONOR | Did you?
RENZO | I wanted to be alone with you again, too.
LEONOR | You’re in luck.
RENZO | You know, you do look different in person. More real.
LEONOR | I get that a lot.
RENZO | Do you? Huh—
LEONOR | [Snickers] No, of course not!
RENZO | So, what do you think—
LEONOR | No more talking now, okay?
RENZO | I’ll show you the dressing rooms next time.
LEONOR | Next time? [Chuckles]
❧ mixed feelings BUT this is my favorite scene so far for what are, imo, obvious reasons. hopefully y'all also enjoy what i'm try to do here !!!! (i wrote a thousand words to accompany this but ended up scrapping them at 3am because they just weren’t right :/ planning to post that outtake separately once i eventually write the proper prose for this. blaming it on having had a rough week. i did have an extremely weird grief dream thursday night, so [insert writing pen emoji])
𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 ↓
TRANSCRIPT:
[Performer speaks]
LORRAINE | Yes, it is very soon. Too soon, not soon enough—!
GLORIA | Of course. How exciting.
GLORIA | It’s well past that time for me, but I must admit that I did hope to be a grandmother sometime soon.
LORRAINE | Already? You’re so young.
GLORIA | It’s very important to have a large family—socially, for the soul. My husband and I love children. My son does.
LORRAINE | Someday, then, I’m sure.
GLORIA | Someday. The right mother is so important.
[Music commences]
[Music begins to fade]
SINGER | Leonor ….
MUSICIANS | Leonor.
PIANIST | Leonor!
[Music resumes]
SAFYA | Leonor … Baby …
[Lighter flicks]
[Leonor gasps]
SAFYA | I know what you’re thinking. It’s okay.
SAFYA | [chuckles] At least it’s not all of those sweets.
SAFYA | Just don’t tell Mama. You know how she can be.
BEATRIZ | Why are you on the ground—where everyone can see? Really?
BEATRIZ | I don’t believe you were looking for me.
LEONOR | I was. I had—I have—a reason. I wanted to ask if I could work.
BEATRIZ | Oh? Good. I was hoping the uselessness wouldn’t be a permanent condition.
𝐍𝐎. 𝟐 𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐨𝐧 ❛ 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 ❜ | NAKAWE, EARLY MARCH 1991
❧ 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 / 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 / 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.
i started these this summer and meant for them to be the meat of this episode's second post, but i got the broadcast idea instead. so, let's call it a supplement. many thanks to @trentonsimblr for the elizabeth throwback to include !
𝐍𝐎. 𝟏 ❛ 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 ❜ | VARIOUS LOCATIONS, LATE 1990 - EARLY 1991
❧ 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 / 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 / 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.
❛ In early March, the Office of the Crown released its first personal statement since the funeral. It resembled the releases that had followed other deaths:
' With the mourning period ended, our family is eager to return to public life. We have spent our time away in the traditional manner. Our ancestors understood the loss of a loved one demands total acknowledgment. Public ceremony is one component, but life cannot resume without granting the wound time to heal. This is reality for even those of us blessed with tremendous responsibility. We expect to always bear the scar of remembrance, just as we know the nation will, but we remain grateful for this time of recovery. Each of us has engaged in true reflection. We intend to recommit to Uspana and its People with clarity and appreciation. This is what our beloved Princess Safya would have wanted. '
❧ i did kinda phone this one in, but akjfsdh it's a nice montage, i think.
𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝 ↓
In truth, the family’s practice of mourning varied enough to warrant a white lie to the public. Some did indeed take the traditional approach. Rodrigo, Matias, and Leonor all sequestered themselves away to a degree; they engaged in that esteemed “true reflection” with only their selves and their memories as company. For others, the dictates of tradition mattered less. Their mourning looked like clinging to routine, revisiting familiar places, seeking comfort in the presence of others. Beatriz returned to Yaas for the first time in years, welcoming for once the way her childhood haunted it. Contemplation could find its way into these activities—in the tranquil baking Olalla did or the letters Mateo wrote to his father—but not everyone was willing to allow it. They formed a spectrum in their grief, one that none policed or much noticed.
The only requirement was that they maintain privacy. Whether at Alam Palace, in the residential quarters of Nakawe Palace, or retreated to personal homes and hotel rooms, they were to be reclusive. An uneasy but time-honored truce existed with the media. Whether the respectable evening news journalists or the scrappy tabloid photographers, all kept their distance. The Crown’s official policy nonetheless remained: they were untrustworthy. The intrepid would seek gossip from launderers and groundskeepers and couriers. The foolish would trespass, slinking along unmarked trails and hoping for glimpses of impromptu promenades through gardens and on private beachfronts. Temporarily, the embargo held. Pop stars, politicians, actors, and socialites dominated the headlines. The media cultivated a surreal alternate reality for the public in which Princess Safya had never existed because Uspana had no royal family of which to speak. All the while, they stockpiled stories to inaugurate the eighty-first day.
❛ Mateo and Gil were at the estate when she arrived, although Leonor could only hazard a guess as to how long they had been there. They lived at Nakawe Palace now. She didn’t know that with certainty either, but one of the cars in the circular driveway bore the signature tags of their grandmother’s fleet. The other she hadn’t recognized. She was let inside by a familiar face; the house’s staff, furloughed in the aftermath of their employer’s death, faced a recent winnowing as part of ordering Safya’s affairs. Although spacious and grand, the house felt empty in an uncharacteristic way. The courtyard hummed with birds and flowing water, but the interior halls were too quiet. Leonor walked with discomfort, glancing about in hopes of sighting a ghost floating from room to room.
❧ i don't know why this took so long ! partly the building, pose making, real life obligations interfering ... anyway, that's a wrap on episode three !!!!!!!!!!!!!! we are halfway through act one, at least as far as scenes go.
𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝 & 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 ↓
Finally, she heard noise—her brothers’ voices, unmistakable even as they spoke casually in words Leonor could not yet make out. She rounded a corner and found them together in their mother’s sitting room. Her eyes did not linger on them. Instead, she swept her gaze across the room, taking in the sight of each furnishing and fixture as if for the first time. In a sense, it was. These recent months had been a deluge of firsts. Their lives had been bifurcated with one blow: before the death and after. Some firsts were more significant than others but few could rival beholding her mother’s sanctuary as she had left it for the final time. Leonor felt a strong twist of sadness as she noticed all the ways, already, the room’s state had been altered. At any rate, Mateo and Gil had been there long enough to have moved things—books and pens on the coffee table, curtains from windows, boxes to be filled.
“You didn’t wait for me,” she said, uttering the words only to regret them. It was a petulant complaint. They, or Mateo, would only see it as such. Yet, she couldn’t suppress the hurt in her voice as she let the observation slip.
Mateo sighed, “We would have, but…”
“We wanted to look around,” Gil chimed in, expressing simply what Mateo struggled to describe in terms plainer than his emotions allowed.
Leonor moved to where Gil sat on the ground. He was writing the date on a cardboard box with a fat permanent marker. She kneeled and changed the subject. It was equal parts a feeble greeting and a begrudging acknowledgment that she wouldn’t argue with them. As the conversation faltered, she felt herself called to do exactly as they had done. She wanted to see everything. The insignificant details that would have never captured her interest before commanded it now. Overcome with sentimentality and longing for what would be forever incomplete, she wanted to wring meaning from everything that remained of their mother’s life. Even the half-empty, lip balm stained glass of stale water on the desk could, if she hoped hard enough, speak. She held it in her hands and saw Mateo looking on with the same knowing when she glanced up.
“We drank some,” he said to her. Gil had picked up a box and was leaving the room, and now Mateo moved closer to Leonor. “Saved the rest for you.”
Leonor ran her finger over the rim. She raised it to her lips and, with her eyes closed, allowed herself the smallest swallow. The glass thudded softly as she returned it to the desk, placing it back on the stone coaster where she had found it.
They both fell silent while Leonor stared hard at the framed photo Safya kept on her desk. It was recent enough, taken just a few years before, but Leonor was struck by how young she looked. She couldn’t say how old she felt now—whether regressed to a baby needing her mother or catapulted further into adulthood, aged by the fact of being motherless.
Mateo interrupted her thoughts, quietly apologizing, “Sorry we didn’t wait for you.”
That was how he was. Always, she could feel the tension in him when he was upset. It unwound soon enough, even when he was in the right, and he was invariably moved to smooth things over. It made her feel bad, especially today.
“I should have been here earlier,” she responded.
“Yeah. But … I didn’t want to come either, once it was time.”
“Being here without her is like—”
“Like she’s just died all over again?”
Leonor was prepared to go further, intent on asking if they had ventured into the bedroom yet, when their father breezed in from the patio. The door had already been open, and she didn’t notice his footsteps until he was calling her name. Mateo didn’t mirror her surprise at the sight of their father, and Leonor’s brows scrunched in consternation.
“Did you know?” she asked as Rodrigo set aside the box he had been carrying and walked toward them. He held a cellular phone in one hand.
Mateo had said nothing. He didn’t need to respond because their father was upon them, pulling Leonor into an embrace as he exclaimed, “It brings me back to life, seeing you.”
Leonor would have recoiled anyway, but the word choice didn’t help. She remained quiet, allowing him to hold her and stroke her hair, glaring unseen at Mateo, who had been released and now pointedly looked away.
“I have to leave, but I’m so relieved I saw you before I did,” Rodrigo said once he let her go.
“Where are you going?”
“I have an appointment.”
Unable to hide her skepticism, Leonor intoned, “Do you?”
Rodrigo sighed, raising his hands to squeeze both Mateo and Leonor’s shoulders as they stood before him. “My life has been complicated lately,” he explained. “Grief aside, your mother’s absence has torn things to shreds. No one will help.”
Quickly, he added, “I don’t mean you. This helps me, right now, seeing you.”
“We love you,” Mateo offered in response. His face contorted with sincerity. As she studied the emotion, Leonor wondered if she could compel herself to say those words. She loved her father—she knew that she did just as she knew any fact of life—but the words felt heavy on her tongue, too heavy to form and release. Mateo spoke them weightlessly.
“I know,” Rodrigo said. His eyes were on Leonor’s face as he did, and she forced herself to accept his gaze. “I love you both so much. So much.”
“I don’t know when I’ll see you again, but I hope it will be soon,” he continued. “Your grandmother—” Catching himself, unwilling to push further into a criticism or complaint of his own, Rodrigo inhaled sharply. “We would be here together, all day, living in our memories and making offerings for her, if I had my way. Until then … Well, you have each other.”
Mateo smiled, and Leonor looked away.
“I’ll find Gil on my way out. Be well,” Rodrigo concluded. He kissed them both, pressing his lips firmly to their cheeks in turn, and then went to retrieve his box. Now, Mateo regarded Leonor as she watched their father.
Leonor spoke once his back was to them, “He isn’t supposed to take anything.”
Mateo groaned. Without a word, he left the room in the direction Gil and Rodrigo had gone, leaving Leonor alone in the sitting room.
With her eyes prickling, Leonor fled as well. She beelined directly for her mother’s bed, made up months ago by some unknown maid, and flung herself onto the duvet. The layers of fabric seemed to give up a cloud of her essence—the unmistakable scent of her perfume, her cold cream, her skin and hair with their subtle earthiness. In the closet, her clothes would smell the same way. Everything here held her residual presence. She lingered in her belongings, which they had gathered to sort and claim and possibly carry away. The house may become the time-frozen mausoleum Mother Beatriz desired it to be, but it was already changed. Nothing could remain untouched.
Leonor buried her face into the bed and wept.
TRANSCRIPT:
GIL | I’m going to the playroom, Teo.
MATEO | Why? Didn’t we—
GIL | Not everything. I left some stuff.
MATEO | Oh. Did you think …
GIL | Are you coming?
MATEO | No, I’m going to sit here and—
RODRIGO | Boys, I need to make a call, alright?
RODRIGO | Going out to the balcony.
MATEO | Sure. We’ll be here.
GIL | Can I come with you?
MATEO | He said he’ll be talking to someone, Gil. Go to the playroom.
RODRIGO | I’ll join you soon, okay? We’ll play some.
GIL | Really? Don’t take too long.
RODRIGO | I only need to check on something. It’ll be quick.
[Water running, birds chirping]
[Leonor sighs]
LEONOR | You didn’t wait for me.
MATEO | We would have, but …
GIL | We wanted to look around.
GIL | Where have you been?
LEONOR | I had to rush here, you know. I’m busy with adult things.
GIL | Even today?
LEONOR | Something came up.
GIL | You look better.
LEONOR | Rude.
GIL | I like the sunglasses. Can I have them?
LEONOR | [Snorts] Definitely not.
GIL | Fine. Mama has some.
MATEO | Sorry we didn’t wait for you.
LEONOR | I should have been here earlier.
MATEO | Yeah. But … I didn’t want to come either, once it was time.
MATEO | Being here without her is like—
LEONOR | Like she’s just died all over again?
[Mateo sighs]
RODRIGO | Nora!
LEONOR | [Whispering] Did you know he was—?
RODRIGO | It brings me back to life, seeing you.
RODRIGO | I have to leave, but I’m so relieved I saw you before I did.
LEONOR | Where are you going?
RODRIGO | I have an appointment.
LEONOR | Do you?
RODRIGO | My life has been complicated lately. Grief aside, your mother’s absence has torn things to shreds. No one will help. I don’t mean you. This helps me, right now, seeing you.
MATEO | We love you.
RODRIGO | I know. I love you both so much. So much.
RODRIGO | I don’t know when I’ll see you again, but I hope it will be soon. Your grandmother—[Inhales]
RODRIGO | We would be here together, all day, living in our memories and making offerings for your mother, if I had my way. Until then … Well, you have each other. I’ll find Gil on my way out. Be well.
LEONOR | [Whispering] He isn’t supposed to take anything.
[Mateo groans]
❛ Once the door shut, the bar's soundscape—its patrons talking and laughing, live music blaring, the slamming of doors and glasses, feet thudding along stairs—hushed. The small backroom may well have been underwater. That was where Leonor’s mind went as she heard the muffled noise, although the red overhead lighting suggested a place more alien than the blue tunnels of Nakawe’s public aquarium. Soon enough, her host’s voice drowned out the murky sounds. They spoke in a conversational tone as she lingered by the door, not needing to raise their voices or lean in close to be heard. Any anxiety she brought from home that evening was long gone. Now two hours in, immersing herself in a room of undimmed vitality had an effect. So too had the sweet beers that found their way into her hands. She had entered the room at Renzo's request and was now, more than anything else, curious.
❧ yay, finally some fun stuff ! i wanted to write more (and write better) for this scene, but i ended up being sick :/ anyway, a few paragraphs is progress, and hopefully there'll be more going forward ! i miss the writing i was doing in episode one, smh. also: in uspanian parlance, a "flower girl" as used here is a sex worker dfdsfk
𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝 & 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 ↓
Leonor knew she was being studied as they sat shoulder-to-shoulder, breezing through the small talk of introductions. That was normal. Indeed, it hadn't been a surprise to her that he wanted to meet her. In most settings, it was de rigueur that an establishment's owner sought the honor and responsibility of welcoming whatever royal decided to visit. Leonor took the opportunity to study him, too. Despite being a stranger, his mannerisms gave her something to work with. He was unlike her. Informal and familiar, he struck her as strange in the way those few regular people she encountered always did. In this case, she liked it. The ease with which he spoke gripped her attention. It was disarming. More than that, it encouraged her to play along. They sank further into the couch together, cozying up as if this was a nightly occurrence instead of a first time meeting.
An illusion of intimacy descended over them, and Leonor spoke thoughtlessly as he held her gaze. She could tell he had more to say—that, sensing she was willing to be forthcoming, he wanted to meet her there. The acrid smell of cigarettes blanketed the tiny space, but Leonor also noticed a different sort of heady scent clung to his skin. Whatever he wore was earthy, heavy cedar or tobacco cut with something fruit-like, sweet, pungent. It wasn't that she had a nose for such things. The proximity distracted her. If she wanted, she could close the mere inches of space between them and inhale directly from the source. She knew he had arrived only recently and imagined him, perhaps an hour earlier, in a bathroom somewhere holding a sleek fragrance bottle. On impulse, she opted to cut the conversation short. She leaned in with, not a care, but the nascent awareness that there would be many more conversations to come.
TRANSCRIPT:
LEONOR | I think I overdressed …
KORE | Renzo isn’t here yet, so—
LEONOR | Do I have to meet someone new tonight?
KORE | He asked. It’ll be fine.
KORE | Stop stalling! Just open the door and go chat.
LEONOR | I feel like a flower girl.
SYBIL | Hey, that’s good money, you could be—
LEONOR | [Groans]
RENZO | They didn’t come in?
LEONOR | [Sighs]
RENZO | Come on, sit down. No pressure.
LEONOR | Nice to meet you. I’m Leonor—
RENZO | [Laughs] Oh, yeah, I know.
LEONOR | Kore had to tell me who you were. I’m sorry, but I really don’t watch much television.
RENZO | Doesn’t offend me. Small screen actors and princesses? Different leagues.
RENZO | So, what should I call you, then? “My princess?”
LEONOR | People call me Nora. Friends.
RENZO | I can?
LEONOR | If you want to.
RENZO | Yeah, I do. I’m glad you came, Nora.
RENZO | … You seem out of place.
LEONOR | I feel that way. Or, less now. It’s not somewhere I would have thought to go, but it feels welcoming. Friendly.
RENZO | A rule of Renzo’s Refuge—unspoken, exclusive, of course. Some of us have images to maintain.
LEONOR | Kore said it was supposed to be a “haven.”
RENZO | [Snickers] A stretch to you, huh?
RENZO | I just wanted a private place to drop the act and be myself. There aren’t a lot of people who get it but, those who do, it’s what they want, too. This life sucks sometimes. A lot. The rest of it is just—you know, my interests. Hobbies. I came here a ton before I bought it.
LEONOR | What can I say? It’s intriguing when you put it like that.
RENZO | How did it sound before?
RENZO | Well, no worries, I’ll take a convert. Maybe you’ll be a true believer after a few nights.
LEONOR | I’m surprised I’m here tonight. I’ve been sad and hiding.
RENZO | Death does that. Are you a sad person?
LEONOR | I don’t know what kind of person I am.
RENZO | Well, you know—
LEONOR | No offense but, if I hear the “destruction, rebirth” platitude again, I’m going to scream.
RENZO | [Chuckles] I was going to say that’s free license to try as many kinds as you like—go wild with it, you know, cut loose? Can princesses do that?—but I guess that’d be the very Uspanian thing to say.
LEONOR | [Hums] That’s setting in. It doesn’t matter anymore.
RENZO | What doesn’t?
LEONOR | What I do. Who I am. It’s overwhelming.
RENZO | Word of advice: that’s just what total freedom feels like—
LEONOR | Uh huh. I’ll take your word for it—
KORE | [Squealing] Yes!
SYBIL | [offscreen] Hurry up! Tell them to zip it up—it’s showtime!
❛ News about the royal family filled broadcasts throughout the day as cheerful early birds, irreverent talk show hosts, and straight journalists alike seized on recent developments. Nothing was too trivial or unremarkable. With the quiet of death and mourning over, the messy aftermath presented opportunity—for ratings, among other things.
❧ ahhh !!! ngl, i'm very proud of this, and i think that it's an improvement on the last television montage. happy to report that there will be more :^) big grateful shoutout to @madebysimblr for the two hosts i lightly edited and renamed ! also shoutout to tom noguchi’s book for the direct inspiration djdhjf
𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 ↓
TRANSCRIPT:
morning news
[J] That bird risked everything to put out the fire! Inspiring.
[E] It’s the Morning in Nakawe promise—wholesome coverage to start your day, every day.
[E] Now, as you know, it’s been several weeks since Princess Safya’s tragic death. It looks like her family is finally getting back to normal. We got a glimpse of some beach outings this week.
[E] Safe to say Abelina has quickly stolen hearts nationwide.
[J] Everything we’ve seen suggests she’s a sweetheart.
[E] And there she is enjoying some fun in the sun with her father. I think we’re all excited to see more of this little family—especially with two new members on the way.
[J] First Reyes twins in recent memory!
[J] Princess Leonor also took to the beach in Nakawe, although she spent her time reading instead of swimming. I bet booksellers are going to see that one flying off the shelves this week.
[E] I’ll admit that I already bought my copy! That’s Ogechi Suzu’s 1987 magical realism bestseller Learning to Fly. No spoilers, but it’s about a woman who can suddenly transform into a parrot.
[J] That’s a classic story, isn’t it? What’s Suzu’s take?
[E] A Nakawe city girl has to crisscross all of Uspana to find herself. There’s love and computers. It’s a modern update.
daytime talk
[F] Okay, we’re back! We couldn’t get a Reyes on our little broadcast, so Mencia Cipac’s here to discuss where we are post-Princess Safya. Mencia was a palace correspondent for years, and she published a fabulous book on royal childhood last fall. Today’s person of interest is a big girl now, but—well, is she really?
[F] Safya’s baby. That’s how we know her. Who is she now?
[M] That’s the question. In my book, I thought I had an answer. We’re going to watch a young person invent herself in real time—all while dealing with such extraordinary events. The premature death of a parent. Losing a role that was, by all accounts, her nascent identity.
[F] In public! Publicly.
[M] That’s right. The scrutiny and attention ... We know how hard it is. Going from a little girl to a young woman is always hard. In the public eye, even under normal circumstances, it’s absurd. In our modern history, this turn of events is unprecedented.
[F] To think, we really haven’t even known who she is.
[M] We never really know, but we make great educated guesses. We’ve see her through the prism of her role, particularly this past year. That isn’t unusual for royalty, here or elsewhere. A hard worker. Our queen’s “little shadow.” That just won’t be true anymore. I mean, we know—we’ve guessed—how Queen Beatriz is.
{Audience murmurs}
[M] So, where does that leave her? It is hard to predict. I wonder if she’ll continue to work in a similar fashion—become a loyal worker for the institution like Martin, perhaps.
[F] Oh, I hope not! Can you imagine? How dull! A beautiful girl. She’s so young. She should do something interesting—for me, because I want to see it. Someone get her on the line!
{Audience laughs}
[M] The recent surveys suggest that’s how many Uspanians feel. They sympathize, but they crave newness and excitement. Our public figures let us live vicariously, don’t they? Leonor’s generation is lagging—all children, of course, all off-limits. That means she’s the lighting rod for that collective anticipation.
[F] She was at the beach here in Nakawe the other day. The gossip is some surfers out there were chatting her up. You’ve seen those boys! She deserves the attention but, oh, so do I—!
{Crowd cheers}
[M] The talk has shifted immensely, hasn’t it? We thought there would be a wedding in a year or two, and now it’s all up in the air.
[F] Who cares about that nobody, really? The whole thing was so sweet it made my teeth hurt. Give us someone new. Someones, even.
[M] To people in my profession, the coming weeks are going to be significant. Whether she’s working as we expect or occupied some other way, her public life will be different. Romance is part of that, sure.
[F] A young girl needs it. Us old ones, too. Maybe a self esteem boost will help her out of this funk. It’s depressing, frankly, how bad she looks in those photos we’ve seen lately.
{Audience murmurs}
[F] Hey! She looks great, though! The baby fat is melting away. That mourning diet did wonders, wow. She always looked like her mother—the body, too, you know. Blessing and a curse.
[M] There’s some resemblance to her father, too.
{Audience grumbles}
[F] Jail! Legal won’t let me talk, but: right, ladies?
{Audience murmuring, interspersed clapping}
[F] Anyway, she has his coloring, yes. The darker skin—which, you know, is a shame since her mother had a very pretty complexion. Brighteners? Sunscreen? Maybe we could have a segment on good products. Bring in a dermatologist or two?
{Audience applauds}
evening news
[B] Alright, last update before the hour ends.
[R] That’s right. The Office of the Crown has given a timeline and some details on the transition. First, Princess Safya’s three children will be retaining their titles—that’s “princes” and “princess.”
[B] Courtesy, most likely.
[R] There was no explanation, but our colleagues over at Palace Affairs seem to believe so. Arnaut, meanwhile, is officially the Crown Prince of Uspana, per the same memorandum released today.
[B] That’s a big deal. I mean, we are looking at the future head of state. People my age associate him with, well, velvet and gambling. He’ll lead the nation in time. In your lifetime, if not mine.
[R] Well, Bernardo, the reality is that does concern some.
[B] It remains to be seen whether that’s fair. The coming months are going to be quite the test for him.
[R] You’ll recall better than me that he was tested in the 1970s and still hasn’t recovered—according to this month’s polls, anyway.
[B] Uspanians may not want to give him a chance, but he’ll be addressing the Assembly to formally accept the role all the same.
[R] And we’ll be reporting as it happens later this week. For now, that’s it for us. UBC Nightly News with Inti Rivera starts now.
nightly news
[R] Yesterday afternoon, Crown aides joined the chief medical examiner involved in the investigation of Princess Safya’s death for a press conference. Some reporters’ questions revealed the influence of rumor on what Uspana’s public now wants to know.
[R1] My understanding is that the Crown has not accepted the investigation’s conclusions. Can you confirm?
[A1] Incorrect. The Crown is uninvolved. Dr. Siodina issued a ruling, and the family asked questions strictly as surviving loved ones.
[R2] Did intoxication play a role in what happened?
[S] It isn’t my opinion that it led to her being in the water. It did contribute to the drowning itself.
[R3] Why did she leave the yacht?
[S] That’s a question with a psychological answer rather than a forensic one, I think.
{Reporters murmur}
[R4] Did an altercation with her husband, Lord Rodrigo, occur that night that would have caused her to leave?
[S] Um .... A moment, please.
{Reporters resume murmuring}
[A2] {whispering} Officially, yes, they argued.
[S] There was a disagreement, yes.
[A2] {whispering} No violence.
[S] It was, however, entirely civil.
{Reporters, clamoring}
[R] Following what some are now calling a, quote, “unmitigated disaster,” the Crown announced that it plans to conduct its own formal but unofficial inquiry into the accident as well as the investigation itself. In a twist, sources suggest this plan could have been in the works prior to the conference. This is a developing story.
