Rachel Caustello (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thecutdiamond) wrote2012-10-23 01:26 pm
thecutdiamond) wrote2012-10-23 01:26 pm
100 Fairy Tales
| 001. | The fox as shepherd. | 002. | Curing a sick lion. | 003. | The saving blood. | 004. | The first to see the sunrise. | 005. | Learning to fear men. -past!Rachel |
| 006. | What was whispered in his ear. -Young!Edchel | 007. | Blood-brothers. | 008. | Sin and grace. -Mensverse!Rachel | 009. | The danced-out shoes. | 010. | The princess in the shroud. |
| 011. | The girl as helper in the hero’s fight. -returned!Rachel | 012. | The youth transformed. -AU!Edchel | 013. | The magician and his pupil. | 014. | The youth who wanted to learn what fear is. | 015. | Little brother and little sister. |
| 016. | Sleeping beauty. | 017. | Friends in life and death. -Eddrew brotp | 018. | The bridge to the other world. | 019. | The confession. | 020. | All stick together. -Pierchel |
| 021. | Beloved of women. | 022. | The dance among thorns. | 023. | The devil’s contract. | 024. | Open sesame. | 025. | Invisible voices. |
| 026. | Her only trick. | 027. | The hunter. | 028. | The lazy boy. | 029. | The snare. | 030. | The rhyme. |
| 031. | Thank you three times. | 032. | Why it turned winter. | 033. | The spider brings luck. | 034. | A pound of flesh. -Lysa | 035. | Wise through experience. |
| 036. | Like wind in the hot sun. | 037. | The blood that testified to the truth. | 038. | The partition of an inheritance. | 039. | Bargain not to become angry. | 040. | Casting eyes. |
| 041. | Cleaning the child. -H/V!Sydney & Cadogan | 042. | Contest in words. | 043. | The ogre injured. | 044. | As much as you can carry. | 045. | With his whole heart. |
| 046. | The man who competes with the devil. | 047. | The girl who ate so little. | 048. | Sunlight carried into the windowless house. -Rachel and Eileen | 049. | The man takes seriously the prediction of death. | 050. | Mistaken identity. |
| 051. | Fools frightened. | 052. | Sailing in a contrary wind. | 053. | Hospitality. | 054. | How wide the world is. | 055. | The girl who patched her apron. |
| 056. | The silence wager. | 057. | The old woman as troublemaker. | 058. | The girl who does not know herself. | 059. | The thunderstorm. | 060. | Staying with a friend in rainy weather. |
| 061. | The practical girl. -Mensverse!Adair | 062. | Keeping up appearances. | 063. | Clean and tidy. | 064. | Nothing to cook. | 065. | The dead shall remain dead. -Edchel (two in one!) |
| 066. | A clever boy. | 067. | The girl who ran so fast. | 068. | Carrying part of the load. | 069. | The girl who wanted to be always young. | 070. | The first harbinger of spring. |
| 071. | Cleverness and gullibility. -Rachel and Eileen | 072. | For the long winter. | 073. | Know-it-all. | 074. | Building castles in the air. | 075. | What should I have said? |
| 076. | The forgotten word. | 077. | Jealousy. | 078. | Two match-makers. | 079. | Echo answers. | 080. | Can’t take a joke. |
| 081. | Cards fall from the sleeve of the preacher. | 082. | The man who will never say thanks. | 083. | The girl who is spinning the thread of fate. | 084. | Good-bye, you dirty world. | 085. | 'Who gives his own goods shall receive it back tenfold.' |
| 086. | Three words at the grave. -Edchel | 087. | Imagined penance for imagined sin. -canon!Rachel | 088. | A realistic demonstration. -Hollywood!Rachel and kiddos | 089. | You shall see me a little while longer. | 090. | Another matter. -Ace!Rachel |
| 091. | Too much talk. | 092. | Wishing contests. | 093. | A miraculous escape. | 094. | Good luck. | 095. | I knew you were coming. -Hollywood!Sydilim |
| 096. | Unusual hearing. -Edchel | 097. | The wishing ring. -Hollywood!Syd/ Feilim | 098. | No time for sickness. | 099. | The lucky shot. | 100. | The poisoned apple. |
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020. All stick together -- adult!Pierchel
034. A pound of flesh -- Lysa!Lycus
065. The dead shall remain dead -- Edchel
087. Imagined penance for imagined sin -- canon!Rachel
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The banging on her door has a lurching rhythm of stop and start again. Whenever it suddenly grows louder she can't help but jump, clutch her weapons a little closer to her chest.
"Open up, Miss Caustello. I'm no' gonna hurt ya. Just want t'talk. Get t'know each other a little better, y'know?"
The way the words are slurred only adds to the doubt she already has of them by virtue of their speaker. She imagines the man on the other side of the door, bottle in hand and a knife or two in the other, twisted spindles of revenge plans on his mind.
"Hey! Y'Clubs bitch. Whassa matter, afraid I'm gonna break you or something? Don' worry, I can be really gentle when I want t'be. Henry on th'other hand, damn. You better watch out for him. He's going to get you real good..."
The comments devolve from there, grow more threatening and at times lewder. She shudders in the part of the room farthest from the door and kisses her knives like some people kiss crucifixes.
They both live to see the next morning; Rachel curled up against the cold, unforgiving wall and Walter in a drunken stupor just outside her quarters. When she steps over his unconscious form at daybreak, she fights the urge to plunge a blade into his exposed neck. She regrets it later, after his brother nearly shatters both her kneecaps.
Shea's voice comes to her then. Mercy is for the cowardly.
But at the end of it all, she can't help but be a coward.
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Much though she tries to avoid it, sometimes she can't stop the falling. There'll be a groove one of the crutches gets caught on, or she'll misjudge the distance, or her limbs will simply be too wearied to hold her up any longer. It doesn't happen often, but it still happens, and when it does she's grateful she was never a blusher, or she'd never be able to hide her shame.
Offers of aid are waved away until eventually most learn not to even ask. After a few moments she'll always get up again anyways, head held high despite the somewhat-too-brightness of her eyes.
But there's always one scarred hand that makes an appearance, usually when she falls in the Clubs Castle, and when she looks up into the calm, big, remarkably blue eyes of its owner, she can't help but accept it.
And as he carefully helps her back to her feet again, she can almost pretend nothing's changed.
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Matthew McCormick. Two of Hearts. Outsider. The latter is probably why he didn't know any better than to dare kiss a certain blonde-haired vixen under one of the scattered mistletoes. A pity he didn't have much time to learn.
Matthew McCormick is a pound of burning flesh in a fireplace, now, and in the warmth of its glow a certain blonde-haired vixen and a young man with blood still on his hands are enjoying one another's company on a cold December night.
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They tell her she needs to sleep more, that as their Queen, her health should be a priority. As their Queen, she can't allow herself to tell them that she hates sleeping.
Or, more specifically, she hates dreams.
It's his face she too often sees in that shadowy dreamland. His voice she hears. His arms wrapping lovingly around hers as his lips press a kiss to her forehead. When she dreams of him, she awakens with a gaping ache in her chest that always leaves her wondering for a breathless moment whether an assassin had finally made their way in.
She makes it a point to go to the cemetery as soon as she can after those dreams. Touch the cold marble stone and remind herself that Edgar is dead, and she is alive.
And no matter how much she wishes otherwise, the Diamond Queen must go on living.
[OOC: Aaaand I couldn't get Melly's headcanon out of my mind. So. Two for you, Glen Coco.]
The Arcana's Death looks like Edgar.
She's grateful for Sophie's somewhat shaky warning, after the ambassadress returns from visiting with the Embassy's newest arrival pale-faced but with her usual Diamond calm. Rachel doesn't think she'd have managed to stay so stoic if she hadn't know.
But the Arcana's Death has Edgar's face and smile and it takes everything she has in her to offer a proper greeting. It's easier when they speak, their voice an eerie, echoey whisper that sounds nothing like his voice at all.
She still goes back to her chambers when it's all said and done and vomits until she's throwing up blood. The bright red is still visible against her lids when she shuts her eyes. It reminds her of life and heartbeats.
Reminds her that no matter how similar the doppelgänger may appear, it'll never have Edgar's soul.
That's in some other world, now.
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The wall collapses, and in the split second between when it does and when its weight piles on top of her, Rachel recognizes what's about to happen and for an instant, feels grateful.
When she wakes up in a hospital bed and told she may never walk again, she grieves but still feels grateful. Tells her mentee, "Perhaps it was for the best."
There'll be no need to tell the Diamonds how she almost abandoned them. No need to tarnish her reputation as Queen or that of her predecessor and mentor's. No need to make her people lose faith in the ones meant to keep them standing tall.
In light of all that-- in the interest of keeping her Diamonds standing tall and untarnished and knowing they were loved; in the interest of hiding the sin of her almost-dishonourable departure-- never standing again seems, to Rachel, to be a worthy penance.
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086. Three words at the grave. Edchel.
090. Another matter. Ace!Rachel
071. Cleverness and gullibility. Rachel and Eileen.
008. Sin and grace. Mensverse!Rachel, bonus points for Cadochel or Adair or BOTH.
011. The girl as helper in the hero’s fight. returned!Rachel
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It's summer. The newly-cut marble is smooth to the touch. She traces the letters once before she steps away again, blinks away the tears threatening to fall from her eyes.
It's autumn. The leaves crunch lightly beneath her feet as she moves towards the grave. She regrets the noise they make when Argine, already standing at the stone, turns to face her. They lock eyes for a brief moment, and then Rachel gives her fellow Queen a calm nod before walking away.
It's winter. The stone is cold even through the gloves she wears, and she can feel the rough edges time has worn into it. She brushes the snow lightly off of it as her niece speaks with her other father, quietly thinking of how she misses them both.
It's spring. The grass is green and releases a sickly-sweet odor where her crutches break the blades. She isn't able to kneel like she used to, but she absently tugs on the chain a ring used to hang on and stands by his side like she used to in life.
It's summer again. She walks with a cane now and may always, but she's able to carefully settle down on the warm ground, press her forehead against the stone and close her eyes; pretend its his forehead pressing back, pretend that the summer air is his breath. The tears slip out easily now from beneath her shut lids, and she whispers to him a thousand times, like she has before and will again.
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There's always something else to be done. Always another threat to subdue, another pile of paperwork to conquer, another trip to the outpost that needs to be made. Since becoming Ace, life has been a series of Anothers, and in the brief moments when she does find herself with a moment to breathe, she find she doesn't mind so much.
Because if she stops, if she slows down, if she starts to think, then she realizes that no matter how many Anothers she deals with, she still can't quite hush that voice in the back of her mind that tells her she can be better, that she isn't good enough.
And if she isn't dealing with Another matter that lands on her plate, then she can hear it speaking loud and clear.
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Eileen has old eyes. Rachel doesn't understand it-- Edgar and Argine are still so beautifully young, even now that they'd married and had a daughter. But she looks at the little girl and despite the way her eyes glimmer with joy, they still look so very old.
It gets worse as she gets older, when they make her Ace and the way she speaks begins to match the age of her eyes. Rachel hates it, wants to bring her to the days when she could be lead to believe that there really was a man who lived in the moon and who would grant your wishes if you said them kindly enough.
But there's no man on the moon, and Eileen has lost too much to believe that wishes come true, and every so often she'll say something so very sharp for someone her age that Rachel can't help but be startled.
But Eileen is an Ace, and so Rachel hides her quiet grief and gives what support she can, lets her niece know how well she is loved.
And sometimes-- well. Sometimes she looks up at the moon and wishes that innocence could be restored.
She just must never ask it kindly enough.
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Drea my heart.
MY HEART.
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/o\
/o-offers duct tape?
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Sleeplessness is an expected curse of a Face Card. Worries or regrets often weigh so heavily on the heart and mind that they have to be worked through in the dead of night, or else they'll not be dealt with at all.
After Adrien takes his dark turn, sleeplessness is an almost natural state for Rachel.
At first, it's because she fears the assassins that he may send after her. She puts all the security measures she can to prevent it, of course, but often she can't lie down when she thinks of the venomous snake that may have been slipped between the sheets; all the ways one can be strangled or suffocated with a pillow and its case alone.
Then, it's because she spends her nights with Cadogan, her moments with him making her so happy despite the trials that she can't bear to disentangle herself from them to sleep. Even then, the weight of her guilt rests so heavily on her chest that she can't bear to lie down, has to get up and pace or simply stare out the window, eyes unseeing. Whenever he finds her in that state, he slips up beside her carefully, squeezes her hand three times and presses a kiss into her neck. Sometimes she'll acede to his quiet plea to come to bed. Others will have them standing like that until daybreak.
Soon, it's because the weight and stirs of the child in her womb distract her. She can't pace like she used to, but she does lie awake in the darkness, one hand resting on her swollen abdomen as she speaks to the daughter that she knows now will never know her face. The thought leaves her weeping into Cadogan's arms, some nights, although she doesn't ever tell him she knows how this will end. Jesus Christ may have warned His disciples of the sacrifice He'd have to make for their grace, but Rachel Caustello sees no need in advertising the fact that she is aware of the price she'll have to pay for her folly.
In the end, it's because she doesn't want to waste a moment with her daughter, with Cadogan, with Säde, with Avery, in life. She doesn't sleep because she's too busy writing letters of goodbye, asking for forgiveness and granting it unnecessarily.
And when the knife finally embeds itself into her body, when the blood comes bubbling up her throat, she laughs, taunts the man who she had put into the position to inflict this upon her and reminds him that truly, what goes around does come back around.
And then she finally, finally, sleeps at last.
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She doesn't tell them that she's been released from the hospital right away. Instead, she takes the long way home, stops a while instead at the outposts, where they are all surprised to see their former Queen-- even more so to see her walking, albeit with the aid of crutches and leg braces. Lucas asks her if she's certain she wishes to remain, in her condition, and she tells him that if she can survive there, it will only make the final homecoming the more easier. He studies her with a concern he wouldn't've allowed to show when she was his Queen, then offers her a place in his home while she stays. Mulling on it takes some time, but eventually accepts. It's a wise decision.
Stella's hair is still as wild and blonde and full as it was when she was pressed against her chest in the middle of the attack that last devastated this place, but despite the grief it brought, her smile is still Diamond bright. It's a comfort, whenever the pain and weariness seems too much to bear. Stella becomes something of a personal cheerleader whenever Rachel works through the exercises prescribed to her by her most recent physical therapist, guided by the one that aided her years ago, when another lost battle with a man left her body and spirit broken.
Leaving is a difficult thing, but one she knows is necessary. She's unfinished business to do in the Deck, still. A little one to go back and cherish and comfort. Friendships to reform, and a new life to understand. She presses a kiss into Stella's hair before she goes, offers Lucas a true and grateful smile. The girl slips a small butterfly pendant into her hand and begs her to wear it and write, both of which Rachel easily promises to do.
And when the days in the Deck get too difficult-- when she falls, when she sees her little one jaded, when she sees Säde and Silas bowed down with the weight of a Suit she knows she cannot entirely help to carry-- she allows her fingers to brush against the pendant that rests where a ring once did and reminds herself that hope can be as simple and as beautiful as a child's smile after wartime.
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017. Friends in life and death. Eddrew bromance.
041. Cleaning the child. H/V Cadogan and Sydney family fluff.
095. I knew you were coming. Hollywood Sydney/Feilim.
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They're so young when they first meet that Andrew doesn't have any conscious memory of it, but his oldest and dearest friend is in every important memory he has. The first chess match he wins. The moment he found out his mother had died. The time he fell out of a tree and broke his arm.
And he knows the same is true for his best friend. He remembers the first time Edgar beat his trainer in a sword fight. Remembers when his grandfather got ill. Remembers when he tried to leap a gap and wound up with a broken arm instead.
They are intertwined like ivy, bonded more closely than they are even with the girls. Even after they grow older, begin to Challenge, falter under the strain of the Suit and their parents' expectations and protecting each other and Rachel and Argine all at the same time, they still can communicate without words. Even after the world upturns and their Four becomes Three and all Three are nursing broken hearts and Two are trying to do so with each other, Andrew knows that in any joy or sorrow, Edgar is still there, and vice versa.
Which is why, perhaps, when the greatest sorrow comes-- when a car crash separates them the way nothing and no one in this world could-- Andrew still feels Edgar there. Still can hear him laughing at a joke he'll tell Eileen and Argine, can feel him clapping a supportive hand on his shoulder when the burden of being King is too much, can sense him smiling when he sees how Rachel has opened up to them again.
And when he is bleeding out in the Spade Castle, he can distantly hear the angry growl of his best friend directed at the man who killed him. When he breathes his last breath, he can feel a familiar hand gripping his.
When he opens his eyes in the next life, he sees his brother smiling and knows that nothing is ever going to try to tear them apart again.
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I just.
/everyhugforeverokayokay
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♣♣♣♣♥~
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/also we need more ghostverse hijinks
/also I just
♥ ♣ ♦ ♠
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/to this too!
/and yush
♥♣♦♠♥♣♦♠~
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The first time she makes someone bleed throws her so off-kilter that things stay warped for a good five minutes before she can bring herself back into calm again. When they return to the headquarters she rushes to the bathroom, starts scrubbing at her hands and shirt in a manner that feels so fruitless, quiet tears caught in her eyes. No one dares to approach her for fear of what might happen.
No one, that is, except her Daddy, who raps on the doorframe once as a warning that he's coming in before he enters anyways, urges her to sit down in a chair he's dragged in and offers her a new shirt to wear. The stench of bleach is overpowering as her tainted one goes into the bucket of it in the corner, while he dabs at the bloodstains she didn't quite manage to catch.
His smile is sharp but the kiss on her forehead gentle when they're finally done. The tears are long gone and her breath remarkably calm, with not a hint of any warping in sight. He offers her a hand and takes her to go get dinner. Pats her on the head and says, \Well done, princess./
She smiles back at him and curls up against his side as they eat, wonders why some people said that what he and Miss Säde did was wrong when all the moments like these felt so right.
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THIS (http://distewi.livejournal.com/709.html#cutid1).
Also snuggles. Forever. \o/
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Some of her colleagues liked to mutter that Hell was other people. Sydney knows better.
Hell is waiting.
Waiting for the moments when she's able to text him, call him. Waiting for the moments when he's able to text or call back. Waiting for the moments when they're finally able to pull each other close again and feel each other breathing.
It's worst when she knows he's coming, when she paces up and down the hallway the door opens up to and peers out every so often to see if he's walking up the pavement. Her father knows better than to trouble her with anything, then, because anything he does say will go in one ear and out the other.
Waiting is Hell.
But being able to open the door, being able to open her arms and fling them around Feilim, being able to kiss him over and over until they're out of breath and then some-- that?
That is Heaven.
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006. What was whispered in his ear. Young!Edchel
012. The youth transformed. AU!marriedwithbb!Edchel
048. Sunlight carried into the windowless house. Rachel and Eileen
061. The practical girl. Mensverse!grownup!Adair
088. A realistic demonstration. Hollywood!Rachel & childrens
097. The wishing ring. Hollywood!Sydney/Feilim
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The infection of the (final) wounds Shea inflicted on her leave her feverish, delusional. She drifts in and out of consciousness, too far gone to even begin to be concerned at the thought that this is probably going to be the last straw-- the others will not tolerate her sneaking off to the Spades Castle again, not after this.
Edgar sits at her bedside, dabs at her burning forehead with a cool towel, murmurs soft words of encouragement to her as she sleeps. Sometimes she's able to take in what he's saying. Most of the time she doesn't.
When the fever breaks, she's able to regain coherency enough to recognize that it's him there next to her. She attempts to reach out to him, fails with a wince as the motion tugs at healing wounds. “...Ed.”
He leans in close to her, presses a kiss on her forehead, “I'm here, Rach.”
“Mm.” she manages weakly, already slipping back into unconsciousness, “...Love you, y'know? Like... more'n a friend or brother.”
She doesn't note the surprise in his expression, with her vision darkening again. Can only mutter, “'n love with you, I think,” before she sleeps once more. It doesn't matter.
When she comes to properly, he's still there, and she has her answer.
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They aren't children anymore. Stopped being that when they turned fifteen-- and before that, really, when one took attitude into account. But things really started to change the night her decision to leave turned into a need to stay, although neither of them realized how much of a necessity it was until a couple months later, when she approached him on the verge of hysteria.
But that's in the past, now, and Ariel is a joy, a wonder, a little lioness. Rachel is a Clubs, a mother, a woman finally at peace. Edgar is almost a King, a father, a man whose life is so beautifully full. It's a happy step up from the scars their youths left on their hearts and bodies.
Sometimes, Rachel stops when passing by a mirror, caught by her reflection. She doesn't entirely recognize the woman before her-- is surprised by the lines around her eyes, the faint aura of weariness. (Doesn't realize that it is a blessing, that there is another world where the lines are caused by sorrows and not joys, where the weariness if borne of carrying the weight of the world and not a little girl upon her shoulders.)
Sometimes, Edgar catches her looking at the glass, wraps his arms around her and kisses her with the passionate sort of love that has remained unchanged since their youth. Of course she kisses back with the same ferocity.
But if she had been able to take a look in the mirror, she would have noted how youthful they still looked.
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Rachel lives in the valley of shadows.
It has been her home for many years now, since the day her mother was taken from her in the worst way possible. Back then, it was just a one-room thing, no furnishings or anything remarkable to speak of. It grew, over the years. Gained more rooms (leaving the Clubs), some places to sit (being tormented by the Givenchies), an empty fireplace (Edgar and Ophelia's deaths), proper flooring (Andrew's), and other knick-knacks (Lindsey's). There's never any glass that isn't broken (the Magician's attack) and there are no windows to let in the light of the sun.
And so, Rachel lives in an empty house engulfed in darkness, alone in the valley of shadows.
Except.
Except there is her little one, who somehow always manages to slip her way past the door, find her way to the cracks in the walls and roof and widen them a little more. And when that fails to brighten the house to a point that pleases her, she leaves and returns with a jar of sunbeams that she opens in the middle of the darkness.
And it burns, so bright with love and hope that the house crumbles around them and the valley is suddenly a meadow and the shadows are suddenly beautiful, blessed light.
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Adair walks on starlight. She chases after the trails of clouds and the tails of white rabbits in the half-hearted hope of finding the place of her birth. She's no Alice, though, so she never makes it to that not-so-Wonderland, resorts to digging holes in the ground for the sake of planting instead of falling through it.
It's not easy to put the dream away. Not when she sees others her age becoming mothers, being able to turn to their own for guidance. She's nowhere near ready to begin experiencing the former, but the latter is something she's certainly lacked the entirety of her life.
Or, well. That's not true.
She's got her father, a good solid man who offers plenty of hugs and good-night kisses, who has worked hard to keep their lives afloat as well as the memory of her mother. Who has taught his daughter all she knows about love, diligence, and knife-fighting. Everyone who sees the two of them-- whether they know of the darker parts of their history or not-- say that Adair may be her mother's spitting image, but she's undoubtedly her father's daughter.
Because Adair walks on starlight, but Addie Thomas is absolutely a well-grounded girl.
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They ask her how she does it. What part of her soul she pulls from to play the variety of characters she does. How the fierce Lady Justice in Arcana was formed, how the seductive lover in Aces was so entrancing, how the broken woman of Blood Diamond came to be, how the loving mother of The Tale of Llanfyllin could be so realistic.
She isn't able to explain to them how it is like offering the world a piece of herself. How Justice was borne of a woman wronged in youth by men who thought her choice of profession meant her easy and manipulable. How the lover came from loving and being loved deeply and passionately since youth by one man, and how the broken woman came from the crushing loss of said man.
How the mother is essentially herself, all of herself-- fierce protector, charming sweet-talker, impassioned woman-- into one. How imagining the girl she cared for in The Tale of LLanfyllin to have Eileen's smile or Darren's hair made it easier for that spirit to come through and show. There are no words to describe such things.
So instead, Diamond smiles, answers with a half-shrug, "I suppose it just comes from within."
The world doesn't need to know how she does it. The only important thing is that when she comes home at night and pulls her children close, they know that she will fight for justice in their lives to her last breath, that she will love them with the same depth of emotion as she did their father, that she would be shattered if ever they left her.
All the world needs to know is that Diamond is a Singer and an Actress.
But all her children need to know is that Rachel Eicheln is a Mother.
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They're too young. Everybody says so. Too young to know what love is, to love as deeply as they imagine they do. Far, far too young for a ring to grace her left hand and his. Sydney disagrees with everything but the last thought.
They are young. Terribly so. They've got their whole world ahead of them, a host of things to do and explore and be. Sydney's content, for now, for the both of them to do what they love to do and do best. For them to explore the world and the depths of their own mind. For them to be all they want to be for each other and for themselves.
So when Feilim offers her the ring as a gift, stutters out that it's "not meant t'mean anything serious yet, but maybe Someday" she puts it on her right ring finger and kisses him sweetly.
Right now all she wants to do is stay in his arms as long as she can. All she wants to explore is the workings of the human heart and how it can let he love somebody so. All she wants to be is his maybe Someday. And she knows that it's the same for him.
Just like she knows that when Someday comes along, they'll approach it hand in hand.
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"Breathe with me, Rachel."
She's only entirely conscious of the pain, which naturally makes her automatically think of Uncle Shea. Hearing Edgar's voice, low and comforting in her ear, is consequently a bewildering prospect.
But his voice is warm, and she's feeling so very cold, and maybe if she listens to him she'll be able to start feeling warmer, too. So she focuses on the rise and fall of chest she can distantly feel herself cradled against and breathes.
"Breathe with me, Rachel."
She's been crying for so hard and so long that she can't entirely remember what brought her into Edgar's arms, sobs shaking her entire frame and making it hard for her to steady herself. He kisses her forehead, wipes away her tears, over and over murmuring to her that it's okay, it'll be okay, she just needs to breathe, he loves her.
Burying her face into his chest helps add to the feeling of being cradled, of being safe, and so she does so, forces her breaths to echo the steadiness of his heartbeat.
"Breathe with me, Rachel."
It's an isolated incident, she knows. A fluke that he managed to find her hiding away in the Diamond gardens, gasping with terror after being yet again harassed by the Givenchy brothers and their posse. It doesn't make the hand in her hair any less comforting, the one steadying against her shoulder any less a tie to a safer reality. He's still Argine's, she knows, but she can't help the comfort she takes in knowing that he's willing to give her this moment, to let her reach to cling tight to his arms until she's able to wrest back her Diamond control and start breathing properly again.
"Breathe with me, Rachel."
It's been years since he died, and she's had to breathe on her own for quite some time now. Most days she manages it pretty easily, keeps herself calm and sparkles on in the face of adversity like a good Queen.
But now, buried beneath goodness knew how many tonnes of rock, she can feel her rib cage pressing inwards, can feel the panic beginning to build among the pain. Hearing his voice, low and comforting in her ear, actually makes her heart stop for just the briefest of moments-- because it was just so entirely impossible that he could be here.
There's a voice like Henry Givenchy's snidely telling her that she's failed again, but Edgar manages to speak louder than it. She imagines his hands cradling her, trying to push away at some of the rubble and let her free, and can hear his voice repeating the same words over and over again.
"Breathe with me, Rachel."
And even though a part of her knows that no breath has passed his lips in years, knows that this is likely a fragment of her stunned mind's imagination, she still pretends that she can feel him holding her, the gentle rise and fall of his chest like a soothing ocean's waves.
And she breathes.
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Beloved of women - Canonverse, Rachel
Sleeping beauty - H/V Sydney, pre-Sade caretaking
The girl who ate so little - Canonverse Rachel, childhood and family
The girl who is spinning the thread of fate - Mensverse Rachel, pre-death
Jealousy - Canon, the Quartet
Why it turned winter - Canon, Rachel and post-death of her mother
The man takes seriously the prediction of death - Shuffleverse, Rachel (Option: Boogaloo)
The poisoned apple - Shuffleverse, Rachel (Option: Boogaloo)
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Rachel Caustello loves her Diamonds.
Very few dare to say otherwise, whether they disagree with her views or not. Very few dare to argue that what she does isn't what she views is best for her Suit, even if the first seven years of her reign and the prejudice with which she rules may indicate otherwise. Rachel Caustello loves her Diamonds, and that is a concrete fact as hard as the rock itself.
It's evident in the hours she puts into her work, in the number of times she tugs herself away from the Deck in order to deal with a certain issue they may be facing Outside, the number of times she's gone down to the Outposts to make sure all is safe and secure. It's evident in the sleepless nights, the intense training, the way she forgets sometimes what eating is and has to be encouraged by the butler, her assistant, Säde, or Avery or Silas.
It's evident in the way she works herself through her grief over Edgar's death, over Ophelia's, over Andrew's, in the way she forced herself to take things on in complete capacity in Lindsey's absence and eventual death. In the careful planning that went into each and every Winter Festival of her reign, and in the way that she made sure to be introduced to every newcomer-- Outsider or Deckborn-- that proclaimed themselves part of her Suit.
And it's evident most of all on the day when she stands up to the man known as the Magician for the sake of both the Deck and her Diamonds and seems to lose crown, health, and home in one fell swoop.
Rachel Caustello loves her Diamonds, and would and has sacrificed everything for them. Very few dare to say otherwise. The Diamonds certainly don't.
Instead, they come in droves to bid their Queen goodbye, wish her well with Diamond Masks firmly in place but with eyes unable to entirely hide both their sorrow and pride. Rachel doesn't understand it, doesn't comprehend how they can murmur, "We hope you'll return to us soon, Lady" with such honesty. Even when Silas holds her sobbing form in his arms and murmurs that she is far too loved to be irreparable, it doesn't make sense.
It only slowly begins to be understandable when the weeks away stretch into months and still she is getting letters and calls and well-wishes, countless people telling her how dearly she is missed. It only begins to sink in when she starts to relearn not only how to walk again, but how to love herself. It is a delicate process, one she is still in the midst of when she steps out of the car and back onto Deck soil.
The bright smiles that greet her, crutches and all, help things become even clearer.
Rachel Caustello loves her Diamonds, and her Diamonds-- hers, now and forever, Queenship or no-- very dearly love her.
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She doesn't know it, but when she does big warps, it leaves her unconscious for a little while. Anywhere from an hour to a few days, really, and once it's done she never remembers anything from before the warp-- nothing except her name and perhaps a few other fuzzy details.
The sleep helps her rebuild her energy, lets her mind settle into something a little more part of this world. Very little can wake her from it-- and in the past, people have tried.
But eventually she does wake up again, has to deal with a world as new and unfamiliar as though she'd slept for a hundred years and was only just now reawakening to reality-- for given definitions of the word, of course.
And it's funny, really, because even though The Gingerbread Man was one of her favourite tales that Fredrick used to tell her, Sleeping Beauty really is one of the ones that suits her best.
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She's little, for a baby. A bit too early for everything to be quite right. Caleb paces, Elizabeth frets, Robert and Anabelle hope. When they're finally able to bring her home, the celebration is so great you'd think she was the newborn Fioro heir and not Andrew, who toddles about with a bright smile that makes everyone love him already. Rachel's own toothless smile does much the same.
She's lanky, for a toddler. Not enough baby fat on her muscles despite the fact that Elizabeth had fed her all she could. Caleb bites his lip, Elizabeth fusses, Robert and Anabelle offer treats, and Andrew encourages with all the knowledge a six year old can muster. Whenever they sit down to dinner Elizabeth tells her to, "Take just a little bit more, darling." Rachel does.
She's tiny, for a young girl. Especially now that she's active and running and romping about with Andrew and Edgar and Argine. Caleb frowns, Elizabeth worries, Robert tsks, and Andrew slips her candies on the side. Whenever the four of the sneak out, they always bring plenty of snacks. Rachel eats what she can manage, takes a little more with them asking her to, but she doesn't really need it.
Her body may be thin, but her heart is full from the love of the ones who love her.
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Rachel knows she's running out of time long before Sophie's knife finds itself buried in her body.
There's only so long one can narrowly avoid assassination, only so long that Cadogan's words can pacify his best friend's mind long enough for her to live another day. Säde and Avery can only manage for so long against the constant barrage their King puts against them, and she knows without them she will be lost. So she counts the days, writes letters of goodbye when Cadogan isn't looking.
And then after a couple morning's bouts of vomiting lead her to the doctor to check for poison, she finds out instead that this dying woman's body is holding a new life, and she know that she has a little longer. Adrien wouldn't risk losing a potential new male, especially not one that's her son.
So she keeps mum about the whole thing, doesn't let anybody know who the father is or how the baby fares or even-- especially-- the gender of the child. It's the only thing keeping her alive, now, she knows. She can tell by the way Adrien looks at her whenever she catches a glimpse of him in the hallway.
When she delivers, she cries almost as much as her newborn daughter does, chalks it up to the pain and joy when Cadogan or Avery or Säde ask.
Because she knows-- knows-- that the brief respite in her wait for the end is over, and her time is even shorter now.
One day, a knife will find its way into her skin, and in doing so it will cut the thread of her life.
She only hopes that Adair's thread is longer for it.
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TEARS. SO MANY TEARS. BOTH OF BEAUTY AND UGLY SADNESS
Adaaaaaair ( ; ~ ;)
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I'M SORRY. BUT. MENSVERSE.
THAT'S LIKE ALMOST ALWAYS SAD UNLESS IT'S WAR!MENSVERSE.
LIKE SRSLY.