eldorne_girl: (cries alone)
She knew Thom was at the House of Arch, she knew.

But there was always a chance that he might come back, sometimes. After all, he couldn't spend the whole time there, could he? So she went and knocked on the door, standing back and straightening her heavy silken skirts absently as she waited. No reply, but, well...

The door was unlocked.

And she went in.

Empty, empty, bed made as Thom does and clothes scattered here and there. She notices all this, as she stands there, but anything else doesn't really seem to make it's way.

The room smells like him. Like the scent he always wears, like his expensive clothes and oh, just...Just him.

Just Him.

In Thom's room, and oh, she's been his for so many years, too many years, and so she knows what they did. Her breathing is starting to be shaky, now. Shaky and her fists clench as she tries not to cry. Tries, but she hasn't seen him in so long, too long, and he came back and he came back to Thom...

It's not fair.

It's not fair, and no matter how much she clenches her fists or bites her bottom lip, her shoulders are shaking now and she sinks to the floor. And, in the middle of Thom's room and her heavy green skirt that have blossomed out around her, Delia begins to cry.

She always did make a pretty picture, though.

OOC: Meme

Feb. 13th, 2006 12:17 pm
eldorne_girl: (just having fun...)
For Bianca, Delia, Mordred, Morgan, and 'Zakath...

If you had me alone...locked up in your house for twenty-four hours and I had to do whatever you wanted me to, what would you do with me?
eldorne_girl: (sweet surrender is all I have to give)
it was sometime later. Josie had sulked but, ultimately, had done as Delia has asked and found another room for the night. Or couple of days. Or...well, you get the picture]

[the other picture is that of Delia and Thom, lounging on her double bed.]

[both very, very drunk]
eldorne_girl: (beautiful girl...bless your heart)
[Delia being dead has little to do with having no life.]

[but, whatever the causes, the result is still the same - the party-girl, the court lady of smiles and flirtations and intrigues and oh, goodness knows what else

(maybe not 'goodness'...)

- is currently being something of a recluse]

[a recluse having a bath, in fact' lying submerged in the water with her thick, lovely hair floating like seaweed]

[or something. Her hair smells much better, after all.]
eldorne_girl: (beautiful girl...bless your heart)
1) Delia spent most of her childhood being the middle child, with her brother Jemis being 18 months older and her other brother Lerant three years younger. With her father, Hallam, being a somewhat distant man and her blonde, green-eyed mother Melisende normally either pregnant or grieving the loss of another baby before dying when Delia was seven, Delia and her siblings were somewhat neglected. The result of this has been Delia’s constant longing for stable affection, but also her inability to deal with it.

2) Her childhood neglect has also meant that she is, in her own way, fairly maternal, as it was up to her to look after her brother Lerant. This partly explains her relationship with Thom, but only partly.

3) As a girl, she was very much a tomboy, constantly outside riding and climbing trees and fighting the village children. This really hasn’t left her, and in Tortall she’d just channelled that energy into other ways – flirting, scheming, plotting, dancing. Anything, really, to keep from fretting with boredom.

4) When she was a young girl, she was engaged to Ralon of Malven, as Malven is a neighbouring fief. When she was seven, though, she came across Ralon bullying her younger brother, and promptly started defending the four-year-old Lerant. She knocked out Ralon’s front teeth, he pushed her out the second story window and broke her leg. Her father, furious, called the engagement off.

5) For the record, she didn’t contact Ralon (a.k.a Claw) about him joining her coup, he contacted her. Well, ‘contacted’. He found her alone, pushed her against the wall, and more from impulsive fear then anything else, she offered him a part. It intrigued him enough that he let her go, and from then on she always made sure she wasn’t alone. She was also going to have him killed, but George took care of that for her.

6) So, why did Delia fall in with Roger in the first place? Multiple reasons. Even when she arrived at court, she didn’t fit into the accepted image. She wore vivid green instead of white and pastels, felt far more comfortable talking to the knights then her fellow young ladies, danced and rode with the best of them - she was too intelligent, too bright, too vivacious, too different, too hungry for attention and power. She already had a knack and a love for the court games, and when the handsome Duke offered her the chance to gain more power…It wasn’t just power, though. She was just sixteen, maybe still fifteen, when she came to Court and into contact with Roger. He is a very handsome man, and as much as she went with him through a chance to get power and to be treated like she had a mind, there was also a good deal of sexual attraction and infatuation involved, too. Which Roger saw, and used, because we all know his habit of collecting pretty playthings.

7) By now, she’s been involved with Roger too long to break free. Seven years, give or take a couple months – she might as well be married to him. She does still love him, though she’s tired and bitter and can see that she’s just being used and toyed with. She can only see that when she’s away from him, though. When she’s face to face with him and he’s talking to her like he always does, like she’s special and worthy of his attention and he really does want her, she’s still too much of the neglected child to break away from that attention. Afterwards she’ll kick herself and hate herself for falling for it again, but she really can’t help it.

8) Because of the length of time she’s been with Roger, and her youth and inexperience when she became his mistress, she really can’t have a normal relationship with anyone else. She knows something of how they work, thanks to Indy, but she doesn’t know how to deal with it once it gets comfortable and safe. She did love Indy, but the comfort started feeling like a stifling cage.

9) Sex is a complicated thing with Delia. It can be a comfort between friends, or a fight with an equally drunk stranger. Sometimes it’s just to prove that she can twine men around her little finger, others it’s just to forget everything but the physical act itself. It’s also about how far she has fallen – she has no honour left, no real worth as a lady, she might as well enjoy herself.

10) She’s scared of death and dying, of the thought her body being a corpse and shut away in a tomb. Being dead herself has done nothing to change this.

11) Related to points 9 and 10, Delia is sadomasochistic, with an emphasis on the latter. It’s not about being punished, just about control and pain – the pain makes her feel alive, and she can’t really be dead if she bruises and bleeds and feels, can she?

12) Delia is also well on her way to becoming an alcoholic. It runs in her family, and she has an addictive personality.

13) Yes, she’s claustrophobic. Her spell in the cells underneath the Corus Palace has done nothing to help this.

14) Religiously, she’s currently very, very lost. As a child, Delia was actually quite religious. As she grew up this lessened, but has never really left her. At the moment, however, she is under the firm impression that the Mother Goddess hates her – and that really isn’t a pleasant feeling.

15) She is jealous of Alanna, for a few reasons. Alanna broke free from society’s snares, while Delia just got tangled and killed. Alanna can have something of a normal life, while Delia is fucked up and dead. Alanna has the respect of her peers and has been chosen by the Mother, while Delia had to fight contempt, scorn, and anger. And Alanna got to do what she dreamed of, while Delia was locked up in the convent.

16) Favourite animal? The snake.
eldorne_girl: (beautiful girl...bless your heart)
[Delia is in a mood, and she hasn’t yet decided what kind.]

[she’s lying on her back on her double-bed, head just below the pillows, jean-encased legs pulled up so her knees are bent, and an open bottle of wine held loosely by her slender fingers is dangled over the edge. Her feet are bare, her nails painted red, and her body aches.]

[aches in a good way, though not many people would agree. That’s okay, she doesn’t give a damn what they think. But the point is that Lucifer isn’t Roger, so he gave her want she needed, what she craved and longed for, without the crash of self-loathing the morning after, without the Delia, you stupid girl, why did you do that, just a pawn, you know you are just his pawn never his queen, gods look after you, Delia, because you can’t…you know he’ll just leave you crying and broken all over again]

[and yet…and yet Roger still chases her thoughts. He’s her addiction, so Delia is countering her withdrawal with a drug of another kind]

[she is, she decides, in a thoughtful, tipsy kind of mood. Yes, that suits. A smile curving her lips, she pushes herself up to take another drink when someone knocks on the door]

[smiling, because she knows that knock, Delia calls out,]

It’s unlocked, Thom.
eldorne_girl: (daddy had horses)
[Delia had always loved horses. Always. It was nearly impossible not to, in the Eldorne house. They bred them, sold them, bought them…it was all the wealth they had left, after the Conquest]

[the House of Eldorne always thought of it with a capitol letter, too]

[so, it should come as no surprise to those who knew her from her life in Tortall to find the now-dead lady outside, watching the horses as they got some fresh, winter air. Watching them, and gently stroking Mithros’s face. He was a lovely horse, even if he had once been Jonathan’s.]

[Bloody Jonathan]

[of course, her clothes – jeans and a jumper, scarf and trench-coat would come as a surprise to those at court, those who now thought her safely dead and in the hands of the Black God]

[Sadly for them, Delia’s always been hard to get rid of. She’s spiteful like that]
eldorne_girl: (lies become your truth)
She hates mirrors. Surprising in a girl so vain of her delicate, lovely looks, but she’s frightened of the way she can’t see anything in her eyes, so maybe she’s deeper then that.

All she can see in her eyes is green, not Delia or soul or personality or…whatever. Just. Green.

Green irises to fight for, inky black pupils to drown in – the young lady shudders for a moment before continuing to apply the eye-shadow. A pause, she steps back, and looks at the creature in the mirror.

Chestnut hair washed and brushed so it is big and heavy and nearly curls; lids darkened, green eyes bright against the kohl; lips left alone but they were always naturally rosy.

High collar to hide the marks, but arms left bare by the sleeveless, black minidress that turns her pale skin to ivory. Black suede boots ride up to mid-thigh, making her legs appear longer then they, but that is the point of it all, isn’t it? Paint and illusion, a swish of cloth and the magician changes the hat into a rabbit.

A soft chime of metal, and the lady hides the burns caused by silk with a pair of wide bronze bracelets. Long earrings of the same colour with jade, and Delia breathes in.

It’s all covered.

It’s all fine.

She can face them, now. Just not him.

OOC: Meme

Nov. 17th, 2005 08:09 am
eldorne_girl: (does your mother know that you are out?)
If you woke up and I was in bed with you, what would be your first thought?
eldorne_girl: (with a gun for a lover...)
[Delia is outside, jeans and a turtleneck and pretending not to be a lady. She's twenty-three now, if counting the years made sense now that she is dead. well, it does in a way - count down the years until the door appears]

[but she isn't thinking about that, oh no. She's not thinking at all, just aiming and firing and reloading Indy's beloved gun]

[it makes her feel a bit better, if nothing else.
eldorne_girl: (sweet dreams are made of this)
You’ve always feared the dead. Always, always, the thought of dying would send you into hysterics, didn’t it? Fear of being judged, perhaps, although even as a little girl you had known that gods could be lied to as well. It was more the fear of losing you sense of self, wasn’t it, the fear of not being Delia any more, that made you start screaming in bed and fumble for the candle. Fear of being nothing but a corpse, like your mother and all your baby brothers and sisters that never lived. So many funerals…can you remember wearing any other colours apart from black or grey or lavender.

You wonder where in the family vault your body is.

You wonder, you wonder.

You wonder where Josie is, in the Realms of the Dead. That the blonde girl is there, you well know – she’s been there for months. Left a while ago, said, “I’ll be back, darling. Love you.” And never came back. But you hardly noticed, did you, because you were in love with Indy and you were being happy and normal and you were…

Well, it hardly matters now, does it? Never look back, because you’ll go mad. Never look back, always walk tall, and act just fine. Ignore the fact that you ignored your beloved Josiane, ignore the memory of her laugh and smile, ignore the way that the memory of her is a twisting steal mesh cutting in your heart and making it impossible to breathe - like the noose of your own choosing and just oh, just ignore it and forget, there’s a good girl.

There’s a Good Girl.

Yes, you shudder at that, don’t you? Good Girl, Good Girl, you’ve been such a good girl that’s it’s choking you as much as your death. Yes, that’s right, Delia.

You are dead too, now.

And doesn’t the thought of that make you want to scream?

But you don’t, do you? Once you’ll scream you’ll never stop, so you just gasp and stumble and knock over that glass and as you pick it up a piece slices your hand….

The dead can’t bleed, right? They can’t feel that, that shot of pure pain through their bodies that makes them gasp and somehow somehow makes their minds so wonderfully clear and makes everything bad just go away and you can breathe now….

The dead can’t bleed, right? But you can, Delia, and now you know it.

So what do you plan to do about it?

Nothing,” you whisper, and hate the very sound.
eldorne_girl: (nobody's innocent child)
[Delia is the kitchen, humming to herself as she moves about]

[making coffee]

[she learned from the diaster with Mel, yes she did.]
eldorne_girl: (forgive me forgive me)
Should anyone go outside, they would catch sight of a girl. No, not a girl, despite how she looks it. A young woman, slim and lovely with hair that begs for fingers to caress and lips that plead for a kiss.
Blurring and stirring the truth and the lies
And a pair of bright, bright green eyes that hid the sharp intelligence which killed so many.
So I don’t know what’s real and what’s not
She’s not crying, but it’s a close thing. ‘Roger came back’, Indy had said. ‘Roger came back and he didn’t see you’ was what her mind added. ‘Knows your room number and never came around, did he? Always you to him, always, always, fucking always, and weren’t you glad when it wasn’t you getting married?
Always confusing the thoughts in my head
Roger came back’, Indy had said and she had said ‘…oh.
So I can’t trust myself anymore
And then she had said ‘Can I borrow your gun?Because I’m dying again
I won’t be broken again
I’ve got to breathe
I can’t keep going under

So that same slender girl, that same flirty-eyed young lady, is outside with her lover’s gun and shooting a target. Not hitting the bull's eye, either, though she can, take nine times out of ten.
Don’t want your hand this time I’ll save myself
“You never bother, do you?” She asks the man that haunted her mind and emotions for six years. He isn’t there, but that’s the point. He can’t answer her, and that’s only a good thing.
Now I will tell you what I’ve done for you (there is a hole where an eye would be, then another on the other one. Bright blue eyes, blind forever in her head)
“Once a person has gone past their usefulness, you just ignore them. Oh, if they are pretty you’ll fuck ‘em cheerfully enough. Pretty and fucked up inside. Alex was useful to you…somehow. Never really saw how. But you kept him around, didn’t you? And Thom. Powerful sorcerer. Pretty. Fucked up. There because of me, did you ever think about knowing? Me. Because I loved you.
50 thousand tears I’ve cried (a bullet through a mouth that isn’t there, metal through the lying lips and seducer’s tongue)
“Loved you. Know what that is, your Grace? You must do, since you used it so well. But, you know, woman scorned and all that. And I’m scorned. I did all that. All of that. My honour slashed to pieces, my family’s not even there…all because of you and your loving, lying words.
Screaming deceiving and bleeding for you
“Thom dead. Alex dead. Josie dead. Because of me. Oh, ego will say because of you, but I do not buy that anymore, my dear. If it were for you, I would have some acknowledgment of that. I would not have had a cell and a noose of my own making. I’m dead now, because of my love for you. I had to pay for all the things I did. All the lying and deceiving and scheming I did. All the killing, though never with my own hands. But it’s too much, you see. Too much for no reward, too much for no love…”
And you still won’t hear me
She stares down at the target, the gun held loosely in her left hand. Bright, bright green eyes – too bright for anything but tears.
So go on scream at me
“Didn’t it ever occur to you, Roger,” she whispers, “That I would have remained loyal if only you had just pretended to care?
Scream at me I’m so far away
Her arm comes up, and she doesn’t even have to keep aim. She knows where his heart would be if he were there, heard it beating above her for so many years.
Not tormented daily defeated by you
“See, you have a heart. Got a hole through it now.”
Just when I thought I’d reached the bottom
That’s when the gun slides from her now nerveless fingers, and she sinks to the ground. Hands covering her face, rich chestnut hair shielding that…but nothing can hide her thin shoulders shaking, nor the choked sobs. The sobs of a woman, seen too much and did too much, and just sick and tired of crying over a man whom she doesn’t even love anymore.
I’m dying again
And maybe that’s obvious, because is just holding her in his arms as she cries and cries and tries to convey some semblance of coherent thought.
Drowning in you
“I don’t even love him anymore. Don’t even want to kill him,” She opens her eyes, and looks at nothing. “Do you know what I want to do, Indy? I just want to slap him, and walk away. Just turn my back and leave him alone in the room.”
Maybe I’ll wake up for once
“But, you know what’ll happen? He won’t even care.” She begins to laugh then, high and rich and bitterly amused.
And this time I’ll save myself
“And that, Indy, is going to be the thing that hurts the most.” Delia falls silent, and stays like that for a long moment. At last, she turns her head and kisses Indy’s cheek. Because I can’t keep going under
“I do love you,” she says at last.
eldorne_girl: (look I'm standing naked before you...)
Delia can't sleep

Just midnight, just after two in the bloody morning, and she's in bed, curled on her stomach with her arm and hair trailing over the edge. Bright-green eyes wide open and awake. But distant, and dark, like her mind isn't really behind them. Where it is, is hard to say. Back at Tortall, back in the Black God's Realm with all the whispering voices?

Where ever her mind is, she isn't letting Indy turn off the light. Nope, not ever. So, the bedside lamp is on, turning her back a warm golden colour and picking up the silvery scars on her bare skin.
eldorne_girl: (iSwench)
First of all, Delia tracks down George, who admits that he doesn't actually regard her with an personal dislike. Then Delia asks about her family. He tells her without details but blunt: they are in trouble. Delia...puts her shield back in place, and George is left feeling rightly troubled.

Next on the list is Alanna, and gets to the point pretty much straight away. Sadly, the news is still the same, and Delia reacts more to what you would expect before suggesting an idea. You never know, it could have been genuine. They talk a bit more about the problem at end before Delia leaves.

George and Alanna, after talking about other people and woes, get to the subject of Delia and her family. They admit that there is little they can do to help, but Alanna still has a bad feeling.

Which is perfectly justified, as Delia leaves the bar>, and gets arrested. Jonathan, naturally enough, isn't too pleased at seeing her again, but makes her lose her temper. Still, he has to concede that it's her show now.

Back in Tortall, Indy's bartending and unaware of Delia's disappearance. He and Alanna talk about Svava coming back, and Tim in the cells, before Delia's letters appear.
eldorne_girl: (you taste like honey)
[she feels odd, standing outside her own room's door. Dressed in jeans and some top from a party, Delia looks lovely, except tired.]

[raising her left fist, she lightly knocks]
eldorne_girl: ('til I can't tell what's real and what's)
Ground cold, tiles smooth and old and worn with footsteps long, long since dead. Crouches on the ground, silken absinthe skirts cold as old wealth and skin like the death – green eyes wide and bright and dull and red. The darkness is large and vast and cramped and suffocating as slender little fingers clutch at a dying star so cold it burns.

It sheds enough light to see that no one is there.

No one?

No one.


A light voice, hoarse and scratchy as the blanket-rope that bruised her neck. Slender neck, fragile girl. Break, break, breaking…not broken. No yet. Fingers clutch a dying star and soul three promises.

“I promised. Josie. Indy,” high laughter with a ballroom glitter and the edge of hysteria, “Alanna. Chosen one, Alanna. The Lioness who bears gods-blessed eyes and a god’s little cat. I promised her I would come back.”

Beautiful girl can’t breathe. Beautiful girl lifts wide green eyes to the seeing dark.

“I won’t be forsworn. I won’t.”

Dead before your time.

A flinch, a bitten lower lip to keep back a whimper. Kindly voice, gently voice, gentle as an executioner’s torch.

You were not supposed to die yet, Delia.

Green eyes flash – fragile girl not broken yet.

“I was supposed to go mad first, my lord?”

Delia of Eldorne, condemned to life imprisonment for the crime of High Treason, born on the thirty-first of October in the year 419 Human Era, died of natural causes on the twenty-first of July in the year 472 Human Era, aged fifty-three.

Not silence but a whispering whispering Delia, Dealleeuh, hush little girl, don’t you cry, papa’s gonna buy you a mocking bird and the swans swim so bonny o with a hey ho and a bonny o who drowned me for the sake of a man she drops the star and presses her hands to ears and ignores the blood running down her wrists and neck and tears and her face grew pale and wan it made a poor heart tremble to think she loved a one and he proved deceitful as she rocks backwards and forwards

let me go back then please let me go back

Not died by own hand on the thirtieth of June in the year 441.

I promised I promised I promised I promised!

The whispering stops.

I promised Princess Josiane Rittevon of the Copper Isles. I promised Doctor Henry-Indiana Jones. I promised the Tortallan King’s Champion, Sir Alanna of Trebond and Olau, the Lioness-

Three promises, my daughter?

Young girl, young ghost-girl with the baying of hounds and the scream of eagles and the slithering of snakes over rocks ripping through her body like old, old silk and

“Will you have me thrice-forsworn?”

a mortal voice, nothing more. High and frightened and makes the silence seem all the more dreadful.

It is thoughtful, and gods should not be thoughtful about fates.

High Treason is not lightly forgiven.

Choked laughter.

“My lord Mithros, I paid with my life. My life, the lives of any children I might have borne during my stay at Milliways. I paid with my birth-home, my natural world. Is that not enough, if only to let me leave until it is my time?”

The Great Mother, oh wise and beautiful and terrible, stoops down and takes the fragile girl’s hand and drops on the blood-red and dead-white palm the little dying star.

Walk across this Realm, this Room and then, my daughter, you can go.

The gods are gone, the little ever-dying light remains to guide her to its brothers and sisters. Somehow she gets to her feet, unsteady and swaying and oh she wants to curl up and sleep the sleep of death and rest and then the dreams will come and no Thom to save her…

She walks.

And the dead whisper to her.
eldorne_girl: (seen it all before and still hasn't said)
(Guilty of High Treason = Traitors’ Hill = burnt alive = death = ?


Home = Eldorne? Milliways + Josiane + Indy + Charlie + Penny + Thom + Alex + safety.

Pretty much, anyway. Better then Tortall. Better then four bare walls and a door and a bed and a chair and a…window.

Window for air, for warmth and coldness. Window to taunt and drive mad. Mad?


Let’s start again.

Guilty of High Treason = Traitors’ Hill life imprisonment???? = insanity - bastard! He knows I hate closed spaces! He knows!


Guilty of High Treason = life imprisonment = insanity + no home + no Indy no Josie noanyone.

Laughter or tears, which is more acceptable? Tears are typical, expected, laughter means I’ve gone mad already…

Ah, fuck it. Neither. That’s a choice, too.

So, original plan screwed up, thanks a lot, Jonathan. But…window. Sheets. Blanket. Petticoats, if need be.

Window. No, not in reach…hmm. With chair? Oh, thank you, Mother Goddess, thank you. This will work…

Shitshitshit, I can’t do this! I…can’t. No, it’ll be alright, I’ll just stay here and…

Slowly go mad. Without them. Oh, Indy, gods, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, love…love?



I can’t…

Ok, maybe tears are acceptable in these kinds of situations. Screw what the guards think.

So, let me try this yet again. Original plan can’t work, obviously, and I have a window. And promises. Promised them. Three people. None traitors. No reason it all shouldn’t still. Sacrificing life and…futurechildren to clear blood-guilt, bound by promises.

Gods honorable? Better be.

See, this can work. This will – I won’t be forsworn. No. Not again. But, didn’t swear oath to Jonathan, not forsworn? Whatever, not important. Just getting home, I just need to get home…

I can do this.

And, by the way, Roger? Damn you to the Black God’s mercy.

Seriously. Damn you. When I get back, I’ll shoot you myself. You are not worth this. Josiane is. Indy is. You are not. So, damn you.

She is found in the early hours of the morning, before dawn. Chair tipped over onto the bed so it didn’t make a noise, the blanket folded into a rope and tied to the bars of the high, small window before forming a noose around her neck.

The nails are broken on her slender little fingers – she didn’t want to die. Not really.

She just knew that she had too.
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