![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
annwfyn.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
writing_shadows"You watch too much TV," Switchyard Sullivan said. "I thought you'd gotten over that,"
Rosie mostly ignored him, because he had just explained a number of things about his Romantic Life which had made her want to claw her eyes out, but the words did linger. Later, when the gathering was over, and Kieran had slid an arm through hers to take her out to dinner, she found herself going over them again.
What Switchyard meant, of course, was that he thought she had changed.
Had she?
Rosie chewed on her lip thoughtfully.
She had changed. She knew that. She had changed in a thousand ways, from her tearful conversation with Rosalba in which Rosalba had told her that sometimes life was not like a fairy tale, to her revelation on the steps by the Thames when she had realized she did not want to go back to Arcadia. She had changed in the big ways, and in the little ways, which she had realized sitting in Hatfield next to a woman who had been take two years before she had, and who now talked about this world in mild horror. Rosie had sat there, and realized much to her confusion that she was no longer shocked by any of the things this other talked about. Men loving men, or women loving women had not seemed so very shocking in a long time, beyond Rosie's ongoing bemusement as to how that worked when one asked another to dance. She did not expect a gentleman to take care of her, because she knew she could do that herself most of the time. She no longer wore skirts, a great deal of the time, and when she did they were terribly short.
She had changed.
But how much had she changed?
Rosie frowned thoughtfully.
She was not sure. First of all, her conviction that any given Ball would be improved by at least five dramatic events had not changed. Neither had her belief that any declaration of love would be improved by a chandelier and a number of enthralled witnesses. And maybe Switchyard and Mort had not done it that way, but that did not mean that their romances would not have been Dramatically Improved had they been able to do so. In fact, she remembered Wendy talked about Switchyard. She had a suspicion that Wendy would not have objected to Switchyard declaring his love before an enthralled audience one little bit.
Secondly, she had begun to suspect that Rosalba had not been entirely correct. She did occasionally have serious doubts about the Rules of Story. Yet increasingly that simply turned out to be because she was thinking in terms of the wrong genre, or misreading events. There was still a story going on out there. She could see that, so very clearly.
Snaggle was clearly in a story. His story, she thought, Would Not End Well. The Driven Revolutionary always died, normally in a hail of bullets. However, in the interim, he might accomplish a lot. Already he was doing exactly what Driven Revolutionaries did. He was writing Inflammatory Pamphlets, and was gaining the emnity of the powerful in the process.
Rosalba was clearly in a story. Rosalba was the Good Girl, and everyone loved her because she was sweet, and kind and good, as well as beautiful. And nobody had ever reacted to Rosalba in any other way, because they respected her role. Right now Rosalba was the Long Suffering Love Interest to Stitches, and soon would become the Beautiful Young Widow, until the right kind of Hero came along. Rosalba deserved a Hero. Rosie could see that.
Aidan was clearly in a story. And actually, Rosie thought, she should encourage him to spend more time with Rosalba. Right now Aidan was the Dishonoured Hero, who would need to do a number of things to Redeem His Honour, never really seeing that he had really had it all along. He was strong, and stalwart and noble, and really would be very well suited to rescuing a Beautiful Young Widow, or maybe some other form of Damsel in Distress. Of course, Stitches would have to die first. As Stitches did not really exist on Rosie's fairly short list of Real People she was not unduly bothered by this.
In fact, most people seemed to be in stories. Some were stranger than others, and she was a little perturbed by Mort carrying his wife as a weapon. It was undoubtedly Dramatic and Tragic, but also slightly creepy and she was not sure if it totally prohibited him from Learning To Love Again. Dominic was a whole story waiting to happen, and he really needed to be guided away from becoming the Theseus figure, who falls from Hero to Terrible Tyrant and more into a Hercules kind of role.
Rex Black was clearly an important background figure in Worthy's Heroic Journey, as the Morally Ambiguous Monarch. Rosie disliked Rex Black quite intently (and this was an unusual feeling for her, and no mistake) but she did accept that he performed that role very well. And Worthy...
...well, Worthy seemed to have a whole wonderful journey opening up before her. Now her Brother Knight was falling, she was entering the Time of Trials, the Tribulation. But when she came through that, she would be something even stronger and brighter and more impressive.
The Story, Rosie thought, was real. She was sure of it. That was one thing that had not changed. She knew now that she just hadn't been looking at things right. She had been defeatist. She had given up. She had stopped believing and stopped trying, which was even worse. She had also gotten wrapped up in her own desires and confusions, which just really bored everyone and were terribly troublesome. She would not make that mistake again.
No, she had learnt a number of things lately.
She had learnt that she did not belong to anyone. She was also coming to the slightly disturbing conclusion that she did not want to belong to anyone. She wanted her 'R' on her arm. She wanted to be free. And even though Drago had been very good to her, and still was, and she loved him for that, as well as the sweetness inside him that no one seemed to see except her, she was not sure she wanted to belong to him.
She had also learnt that she was not the hero of the story. And that was OK. She was quite happy with not being a Hero, or Heroine. She could be the chirpy sidekick. She did that well. She rather wished she could learn to turn into a small and anthromorphic animal. She would then be even better as a sidekick. Perhaps she should ask Aidan to teach her. She could be a bird on someone's shoulder. That would be marvellous.
And she would like that.
Finally, she had learnt that it was possible to change. Kieran, she thought, had possibly taught her that, and for that she should add him to the trio of Mort, Worthy and Rosalba who had kept her from Darken Fel. She had changed herself. She had made herself Not Perfect and maybe more besides. She had changed events. She had made decisions. It was possible to change, and that meant that the Story was something entirely unlike that which she had previously envisioned. It was not a giant and unstoppable river that you just got carried along with. You could change the story.
You could change your stars.
Those were big and exciting changes. Those did excite Rosie and make her immeasurably happy. Those were bigger changes that anyone could possibly envision.
And surely that was enough for now?
Rosie mostly ignored him, because he had just explained a number of things about his Romantic Life which had made her want to claw her eyes out, but the words did linger. Later, when the gathering was over, and Kieran had slid an arm through hers to take her out to dinner, she found herself going over them again.
What Switchyard meant, of course, was that he thought she had changed.
Had she?
Rosie chewed on her lip thoughtfully.
She had changed. She knew that. She had changed in a thousand ways, from her tearful conversation with Rosalba in which Rosalba had told her that sometimes life was not like a fairy tale, to her revelation on the steps by the Thames when she had realized she did not want to go back to Arcadia. She had changed in the big ways, and in the little ways, which she had realized sitting in Hatfield next to a woman who had been take two years before she had, and who now talked about this world in mild horror. Rosie had sat there, and realized much to her confusion that she was no longer shocked by any of the things this other talked about. Men loving men, or women loving women had not seemed so very shocking in a long time, beyond Rosie's ongoing bemusement as to how that worked when one asked another to dance. She did not expect a gentleman to take care of her, because she knew she could do that herself most of the time. She no longer wore skirts, a great deal of the time, and when she did they were terribly short.
She had changed.
But how much had she changed?
Rosie frowned thoughtfully.
She was not sure. First of all, her conviction that any given Ball would be improved by at least five dramatic events had not changed. Neither had her belief that any declaration of love would be improved by a chandelier and a number of enthralled witnesses. And maybe Switchyard and Mort had not done it that way, but that did not mean that their romances would not have been Dramatically Improved had they been able to do so. In fact, she remembered Wendy talked about Switchyard. She had a suspicion that Wendy would not have objected to Switchyard declaring his love before an enthralled audience one little bit.
Secondly, she had begun to suspect that Rosalba had not been entirely correct. She did occasionally have serious doubts about the Rules of Story. Yet increasingly that simply turned out to be because she was thinking in terms of the wrong genre, or misreading events. There was still a story going on out there. She could see that, so very clearly.
Snaggle was clearly in a story. His story, she thought, Would Not End Well. The Driven Revolutionary always died, normally in a hail of bullets. However, in the interim, he might accomplish a lot. Already he was doing exactly what Driven Revolutionaries did. He was writing Inflammatory Pamphlets, and was gaining the emnity of the powerful in the process.
Rosalba was clearly in a story. Rosalba was the Good Girl, and everyone loved her because she was sweet, and kind and good, as well as beautiful. And nobody had ever reacted to Rosalba in any other way, because they respected her role. Right now Rosalba was the Long Suffering Love Interest to Stitches, and soon would become the Beautiful Young Widow, until the right kind of Hero came along. Rosalba deserved a Hero. Rosie could see that.
Aidan was clearly in a story. And actually, Rosie thought, she should encourage him to spend more time with Rosalba. Right now Aidan was the Dishonoured Hero, who would need to do a number of things to Redeem His Honour, never really seeing that he had really had it all along. He was strong, and stalwart and noble, and really would be very well suited to rescuing a Beautiful Young Widow, or maybe some other form of Damsel in Distress. Of course, Stitches would have to die first. As Stitches did not really exist on Rosie's fairly short list of Real People she was not unduly bothered by this.
In fact, most people seemed to be in stories. Some were stranger than others, and she was a little perturbed by Mort carrying his wife as a weapon. It was undoubtedly Dramatic and Tragic, but also slightly creepy and she was not sure if it totally prohibited him from Learning To Love Again. Dominic was a whole story waiting to happen, and he really needed to be guided away from becoming the Theseus figure, who falls from Hero to Terrible Tyrant and more into a Hercules kind of role.
Rex Black was clearly an important background figure in Worthy's Heroic Journey, as the Morally Ambiguous Monarch. Rosie disliked Rex Black quite intently (and this was an unusual feeling for her, and no mistake) but she did accept that he performed that role very well. And Worthy...
...well, Worthy seemed to have a whole wonderful journey opening up before her. Now her Brother Knight was falling, she was entering the Time of Trials, the Tribulation. But when she came through that, she would be something even stronger and brighter and more impressive.
The Story, Rosie thought, was real. She was sure of it. That was one thing that had not changed. She knew now that she just hadn't been looking at things right. She had been defeatist. She had given up. She had stopped believing and stopped trying, which was even worse. She had also gotten wrapped up in her own desires and confusions, which just really bored everyone and were terribly troublesome. She would not make that mistake again.
No, she had learnt a number of things lately.
She had learnt that she did not belong to anyone. She was also coming to the slightly disturbing conclusion that she did not want to belong to anyone. She wanted her 'R' on her arm. She wanted to be free. And even though Drago had been very good to her, and still was, and she loved him for that, as well as the sweetness inside him that no one seemed to see except her, she was not sure she wanted to belong to him.
She had also learnt that she was not the hero of the story. And that was OK. She was quite happy with not being a Hero, or Heroine. She could be the chirpy sidekick. She did that well. She rather wished she could learn to turn into a small and anthromorphic animal. She would then be even better as a sidekick. Perhaps she should ask Aidan to teach her. She could be a bird on someone's shoulder. That would be marvellous.
And she would like that.
Finally, she had learnt that it was possible to change. Kieran, she thought, had possibly taught her that, and for that she should add him to the trio of Mort, Worthy and Rosalba who had kept her from Darken Fel. She had changed herself. She had made herself Not Perfect and maybe more besides. She had changed events. She had made decisions. It was possible to change, and that meant that the Story was something entirely unlike that which she had previously envisioned. It was not a giant and unstoppable river that you just got carried along with. You could change the story.
You could change your stars.
Those were big and exciting changes. Those did excite Rosie and make her immeasurably happy. Those were bigger changes that anyone could possibly envision.
And surely that was enough for now?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-10-18 12:34 pm (UTC)Switchyard and Mort? Awwwww, they'll be so cute together!
no subject
Date: 2009-10-18 12:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-18 12:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-18 01:06 pm (UTC)I am just trying to give credit to those people who stopped her running off to Darken Fel the minute she found out the third condition.
I shall write nice fic about Aria later if you like. Rosie does love her dearly.
no subject
Date: 2009-10-18 01:13 pm (UTC)I don't think Stitches appears on anyone's list as a Real Person ;)
no subject
Date: 2009-10-18 01:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-18 01:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-18 01:21 pm (UTC)These things do just eat one's time.
no subject
Date: 2009-10-18 01:24 pm (UTC):D
no subject
Date: 2009-10-18 04:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-18 04:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-18 04:27 pm (UTC)From any normal sane point of view, no, she shouldn't.
From Rosie's point of view, she absolutely had to! How else could he possibly fulfil his function? And how could it possibly go wrong?
no subject
Date: 2009-10-18 10:20 pm (UTC)Hee! Good all round, but especially nice use of gratuitous capitalisation.
no subject
Date: 2009-10-18 10:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-18 10:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-18 10:59 pm (UTC)