Lady Marian doesn't do embroidery (mrs_locksley) wrote in wariscoming, @ 2012-07-24 20:14:00 |
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Entry tags: | lancelot, marian locksley |
Who: Lady Marian and OTA!
What: That's what you get for waking up in Lawrence?
When: Tuesday evening, around sunset
Where: A strip mall
Status: Ongoing, open
The first thing Marian noticed was feeling warm. The Holy Land had been so warm, swelteringly hot for the group of English people who had arrived there. Her skin, pale and smooth, was likely to burn. And yet she'd been cold. She wasn't stupid. She knew why that was. The last time she'd been so terribly cold, she'd lay dying. Only this wasn't simply a dagger through her ribs and there was no physician to stitch her up like a bit of needlework. Marian knew without question that she was going to die.
Only the cold stopped. And she was warm and content again. A sense of peace washed over her, and peace was something she hadn't felt in a very long time. Not since her fiance had gone off to war. Anger and stress and pain and worry...those were feelings she'd become much more accustomed to.
Was this Heaven? She was all right with that. Knowing despite the hurt she'd caused and the pain she'd inflicted on others that she had done enough to earn herself a place among the best. Maybe she really had made a difference in Nottingham. In England.
But if this was Heaven, their religious leaders had been led astray. The noise was overwhelming and the contraptions... She didn't understand them. Somehow she'd always imagined walking in Heaven, but here people seemed to ride around in boxes on wheels that moved much too quickly for her liking.
Unless this wasn't the afterlife at all. Or perhaps... Perhaps the reason she finally felt so warm was that she hadn't made it to Heaven at all. Had she found her way to the underworld? All the lives she'd changed, maybe the ones she'd hurt counted for more. That was a horrifying thought and she started shivering all over again.
"Move it!" a voice yelled, and she realized that she was being shooed, like a dog chasing after scraps. Ordinarily, she would have snapped at being treated so unfairly. Did they have any idea who she was? But she couldn't form proper words. She was too confused, too rattled. She scrambled to her feet, realizing the plain white dress she wore was the same one she'd worn in the Holy Land. No, that wasn't awkward at all. "S-sorry," she mumbled, then looked around. Nothing was right in this place. And she had no idea where to go to fix that.