With only one episode left of the season, I was thinking back to what Regina went through this year:
- Left by her son (yes, he cares for her but he did go to live with this biological family)
- Almost lynched by the citizens of Storybrooke
- Wraith almost took her soul
- Rejected by everyone in Storybrooke
- Forced to kill her resurrected true love
- Used by her own mother to gain power
- Manipulated into killing her own mother, only to gain one last moment of genuine love she always craved and then lose it immediately
- Double crossed and kidnapped
- Tortured for hours, barely surviving the whole ordeal
Yes she is horrible. But technically, she has been punished and suffered more for her sins than everybody else combined (and that was just since the curse broke).
Koschei awoke with a start, his breathing labored. Then he began to cough, hands shooting up to his mouth. He pulled out a long tube, staring at it with apprehension. His eyes adjusted to his surroundings and his hands moved up, pressing against the glass top and then to the sides. He was in a box…a glass box…but there was fresh air coming from somewhere.
IVs dangled from the tops of his hands. What the hell? Now he was beginning to feel a tad bit claustrophobic. He hit the top of the box again, yelling out. Calling for someone to let him out.
The air coming into the box changed, tinged with something else. The Time Lord coughed, his head growing muggy. His hands slipped back down, muscles feeling leaden. No…no, no, no. He didn’t want to go back to sleep. No…
When I bring him back….
…Will you still remember me?
…When I tell you how I…
…Will it end in a soft whimper…
Please don’t forget me…
…I always put up a strong front for you…
…but my biggest weakness…..
Losing you will kill me…I know it….
Don’t forget me, Sakura-chan….
what keeps me creating?
I cannot twiddle my thumbs. I cannot be ‘bored’. on days like these I could lay in bed and sleep forever, sure. the ‘forever’ in dreams; perhaps an hour to someone in the world of awake. but no matter how much I despise living in that world, I do. I have to. and so I find myself disconnected but creating. no matter what’s going on I have to make things. as if it’s a distraction; eyes away from others’ while I take in what’s around me and look down to see the project in my hands coming to ‘life’.
whether it’s words or sounds or pictures or food or sticking random crap together to make some kind of sculpture. I don’t know what it is, but i have to. put things in my hands and I’ll turn it all into ‘something’ - something more than the sum of its parts. and I like that. I enjoy that. but is that enough? it’s as if by making these things I’m forming a potential. a potential for what? for change? a change in my mood for a while, perhaps. a potential for change in someone else’s day. I like the thought of that. I like that a lot. but it’s an afterthought. what is it of my hands, of my mind, that puts all else aside so I can create?
all these things will be thrown when I’m gone. they’re only material after all. but will they make that much difference having come to life? that idea has certainly driven me at various points.. to continue. to pursue. but I’m talking about the layer peeled wiped away bare naked pure urge of it. it’s a compulsion. perhaps the pure motion of making is just how I, myself am made. but the need, the urge within to make these things more… that is something else entirely. and it’s something that keeps me here. at least I know that much.
So here is what I have been mulling on with all this Morrigan-love and Orlesian speculation -
That Leliana knows Morrigan is in Orlais before anyone else. She feels the subtle change in the air - the ripple of electricty from old magic, the way the ground trembles with each footfall of the swamp witch. She sees her first from a distance (of course) and smiles to herself at the perfectly arranged hair, the deliberate and coy display of skin, the selection of gold and jewels meant to accentuate an already breathtaking beauty.
But she doesn’t announce herself to the witch. Most likely, Morrigan is aware she is being watched, is tense with expectation over their inevitable “reunion.” Instead, Leliana employes all her tricks, conducts the proper manipulations, to ensure that there is no knife lying in wait for her one-time traveling companion. After all, Morrigan doesn’t know the Game. It’s an easy thing to toy with lusts, to coerce, to have one’s tongue drip with the honey of lies, but managing the politics behind each action of the coy men and women of the court is another thing entirely. The witch doesn’t know how to wind her way through those brambles.
And while she doesn’t know what the she has planned, or if her intent is ill, Leliana will do what she can to keep Morrigan alive, to keep her within sight. And if it’s malevolence the witch seeks, then Leliana will make it her own sworn duty to bring her down - bow against spell, bard against mage, heart against heart. It wouldn’t be the first loved one that Leliana would have to kill. It wouldn’t be the last. But she would owe it to the Warden, to Morrigan, and to herself, to make the blow clean and swift, even if the regret of it may undo her.
Starter for chskcsmith
Shadow had stumbled his way into the nearest bar from where he was being held captive by Akailean. She had let him finally head back home but he’d rather get shitfaced first, to be able to deal with his horrible reality. He sat down and ordered himself a drink, rubbing his temples.
The idea of finding one person or that there is one person only for you is a silly notion. It’s like this romanticized idea that there is only one person in the whole wide world that will ever understand and get you and inspire you. It makes people mad. Like every time you walk pass someone that makes your heart race or pick up your favorite book or loves your favorite film—that suddenly this person could be your long lost lover—-that everyone you don’t speak to is someone you could possibly be abandoning.
It’s silly when you break it down into a science, but we all want to believe it. We all want to believe that one day we will find this person and the person who is sipping on that cup of coffee next to us is the one. The only person you can ever imagine yourself sharing your life with. Maybe in the end that is what romance is. Believing in silly, romanticized ideas because it makes us feel special and in tuned with the universe happenings.