Lothíriel, Queen of Rohan | Lord of the Rings (queenofrohan) wrote in spinningcompass, @ 2013-05-15 01:40:00 |
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Entry tags: | !closed |
WHO: Lothíriel and Éomer
WHEN Tuesday evening
WHERE Their apartment
WHAT: Talking about the last few weeks
WARNINGS: Talk of sexuality, sexism, miscarriage possible
STATUS: Ongoing/Closed
Lothíriel put on a tea kettle, setting out two cups and laying the teabags in them. She had much she wished to discuss with Éomer tonight, and she had no doubt that the discussion could go very late indeed. The past few weeks had been both tremendously difficult and tremendously enlightening in a thousand different ways, and she needed someone to just...talk to.
And she knew, for the first time in her life, that her father was neither capable, nor willing to be that person.
She couldn't speak to him of her sadness over the loss of her child, or of the freedom she'd discovered in the last few weeks. Likely, her father would consider the clothes she'd found inappropriate, and the idea of dancing like Blaine was teaching her to do whorish. But it wasn't. It wasn't! She felt free, and empowered, and moving her body like that wasn't a sexual thing, it was a liberating, celebratory thing the likes of which she'd never known before.
And she just wanted someone to listen and maybe understand. And she thought...she hoped...that Éomer could.
It had also been in the past few weeks that she'd come to understand just how much she loved Éomer. Perhaps it was because she was discovering herself, finding her freedom, making her own decisions. She wasn't doing anything anymore because she had to - she was doing them because she wanted to. And she found that having Éomer in her life and at her side was something she very much wanted.
There were...just so many things.
Tonight she was wearing a very short brown dress that looked lovely with her coloring, short enough that if she bent over you were very likely to see a flash of her bottom. She had found it today, and with it the knee-height boots that were a slightly darker shade of brown. She hoped that Éomer would like it, because she certainly did, and she was certainly going to be wearing it again. It made her feel...pretty. And...and sexy. And she was beginning to realize that that - that feeling sexy and desirable - was okay.
She heard Éomer at the door just as the kettle went off, and poured the water into the cups to let them steep.
"I'm in the kitchen!"