Jul. 1st, 2006

eldorne_girl: (secret smile)
Some things are not meant to be shared.

Delia has nearly always been surrounded by people. At Eldorne, at the convent, at court, at Milliways...People, people, people everywhere watching her and waiting for her to slip. These things were private: her grief (silent until she left the hall, silent as she ran down the hallway, silent as she locked her door and then Delia had screamed) at Roger's death, her own death, her falling in love with Thom while no one was watching (even if the revelation thereof was shared and thus public), but everything else witnessed by someone.

Her spiral into alcohol and sex and blood and pain and self-destruction: witnessed.

Her trial: witnessed.

Her life, her afterlife: witnessed.

She's playing for an audience, always playing a part, the part, the Part of Delia of Eldorne, lovely and clever and brittle as fine, badly-made glass, wanna-be Cinderella with a broken slipper...No, that's a pose. This is real. Delia is real, as is her part. All real, all facets of her, even the struggles to break free of the script and the falling down, maybe that's a part, too (it's not for others to decide, but others always do). No matter, it's real and it's not, it's old and repeating, it's reassuring and disappointing and -

Delia is dead, and some things aren't meant to be shared.

So imagine what you will what happens once she takes the Black God's hand. She is His now, and maybe there is a sense of relief as she accepts and walks with Him. Belonging, for once. Throw in terms such as surrender and submission, maybe, but it's a choice. She could have fought, could have stayed huddled and cold and running in her head...but she didn't. For the first time in a while, Delia chooses to accept and let go. Not for someone else, not for her family or for Roger, just...

For herself.

What happens to her after that is between Him and her, and not meant to be shared.

Just know this:

When she wakes up in her room in Milliways, twenty-four hours after she collapsed, she doesn't feel cold anymore.
eldorne_girl: (secret smile)
[being warm seems like a luxury after so long being cold, and being able to run around in bare feet and a singlet top seems almost sinfully nice]

[if Tortallans and Delia had a strong idea about 'sin', that is]

[leaving that aside, Delia is out in the greenhouse. It's night, but it's summer and so thus it's jeans and bare feet and a lavender top with spaghetti straps and a few layers of sheer, lovely fabric - Indy bought it for her, on their trip to London, but she doesn't think about that. Instead, she just walks through and trails her fingers against the flowers]


eldorne_girl: (Default)

June 2007

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