[Requiem] Lucy Clover does some reflecting.

[hadidet.livejournal.com]

What is wrong with me?

Awkward, fidgety, wrong-faced Lucy. Never knows what to say, somehow strings together most of a sentence without putting her foot too far in it, has no idea how to attend Court, who to talk to, what to call them, has enough trouble remembering first names let alone surnames, titles, honorifics, etiquette, taboos, proper parlance.  All the while screaming, silently; why do you care?

I know why. If you can make sure everyone calls you Sir or Lord or Prince, you ensure that every conversation reminds them: Don't Mess With Me. I'm bigger than you. I could crush you and no one would stop me.  But it's just becoming silly.  Every time someone misses a word out of an introduction, dares to talk about someone in the third person in their presence, nothing is said, but I can feel their name being written on a List, somewhere in The Ether. I can feel my Covenant Mates' self-expression winding nooses around their necks, building a stake splinter by splinter. Self-expression is Beautiful.  Important.  Powerful.  Unchastened, it can rip minds apart.  Chastened, all it destroys is my friends.  To some, it is only worth it if it's dangerous: They wouldn't bother having an original thought for its own sake. They fight authority with papercut words.  The petty guerilla slights lessen them, but it's the only fight they have.  And they do so love to fight.

I flinch when a sister or brother's name is written on that List.  I love and fear their audacity.  But I do wish they'd pick their battles.

Lucy Clover.

Officially The Worst Scarlet Woman Ever.