(5/9/02, Incomplete)
The door opens cautiously, and a too-familiar person casts a curious gaze across the room, searching for the expected occupant. Sigurd has come to visit Marguerite, if only to offer hugs and reassurance if needed; Margie-chan has not been radiating the greatest range of emotions as of late. The First Mate is understandably worried about his charge's dark emotions, feelings he rarely perceives from her.
And.. And yet, who can really blame her? Marguerite has never felt so utterly helpless in her life--And mind you, helplessness is certainly nothing she'd prefer to feel at -all-. Things are amiss, Shevat is plotting -something-, Gabriel is in danger and.. and.. Where -is- that irritating excuse for a nun that was 'rescued with her'? It was... It was more than she knew how to deal with. Especially all alone. And perhaps that is a great deal of why the Holy Mother has been so distant lately, so utterly withdrawn, so far from her usually good tempered self. And so it is again today, as she sits in her room, sitting uncomfortably on the edge of the bed with her back against the wall. And she.. can't really seem to figure out just -how- to feel right now. Frustrated, upset, depressed, or just plain -angry-.. Blurs of such occur to her, even as she looks nothing more than outwardly upset. And accutely downtrodden. So far from her generally cheerful self. And forced, for all of it, to shoulder it alone.
Alone? Not if Sigurd can help it. "Marguerite?" That single name, voiced softly, but not tentatively. But still, there is that need to ask before you intrude: "May I come in?" His compassion and instinct demand that he go in; however, his empathy, which has gone completely haywire, screams that he flee this room full of miasmas of mixed negative sentiments. However, Sigurd's instinct to guard is stronger than his reservations, and he manages to look concerned and fatherly, even while teetering on the threshold of Margie's room.
Alone? But what choice does she have? If she could.. If but she could tell them all what happened, she'd do it in an instant. But with no way to convey what happened without putting Gabriel in danger, and no way to express what is wrong.. It's merely a matter of trying to figure out how to fix it -herself-. Something that is not quite working quite so well so far. At the sound of Sigurd's voice, though, she lets that train of thought drop for a moment--It's little more than distraught brooding at this point anyway--If just to blink mildly at that voice. Sigh. Trying to conjure a more neutral expression to her features than one quite so torn, she gently responds with a softer, "Of course." Yes, sound fine enough, look fine enough. She knows quite well that it wont do a mite bit of good, but she is, if nothing else, trying her best.
Sigurd enters swiftly, perhaps a little relieved that Marguerite seems to be taking company. Coming on silent steps to sit beside her- but not too close (emotion radiation X_X_X)- on the bed, he drops his gaze to the bedcovers, rather than staring her in the eye. No need to be so direct about such a thing. But still, the enormous amount of conflicting negative feelings radiating from Margie, so much more perceptible now once he is up close, makes Sigurd that much more worried about her. And now he decides that formality will not really be of much use here. "Something bothers you, dear one?" A pet name; what a surprise.
Oh, but taking company keeps up appearances of things being fine. ...Not like Margie cares very much to play and act to the role that she was given to her by the Shevvites. No, much more than that, she simply.. wants company right now, really. For despite how she can say nothing of what happened, despite how she can't share exactly the extent of what is distressing her so.. That hardly means that she doesn't need the faint comfort that company provides. Even if it is only the sheer force of -willpower- that keeps her face neutral, trapping so much worry, so much hopelessness, so much frustration, so much.. So -much- behind those blue, blue eyes.
Of course, no display of good acting could hide the truth from Sigurd. And while she is not quite aware of just how unpleasant the emotions that emit from her are, she knows very well enough how black they are to her. Frustration. Worry. And all of it wearing her just -depressed-. And.. is it not strange? That at the same time there is such a growing, frustrated -determination-. Must make things better. Must fix everything. Somehow. Somehow.
But while this muddled mess of thoughts and feelings winds its way through Marguerite's mind, she does.. Manage to wonder if it is really so blatantly obvious that that is the first thing that Sigurd would say. She blinks mildly at first, silent a moment.. Before she merely turns her gaze to the floor. And responds with a light, "Nothing important, no. It's nothing to worry about, at least." Sure it isn't, Margie. Sure it isn't.
Sigurd is rather incredulous about this pronouncement; the emotions radiating from Margie are nearly nuclear in their deadliness. He is somewhat confused, and quickly decides that not pressing the issue could be lethal in this case. Judging from the miasma of mixed emotions emanating from his charge, she was very, very troubled by something. Of course, she could just still be upset over that "meeting". That would be the nice scenario; nice in that this massive amount of worry
Sigurd is nursing right now could be cut down a fraction. Not eliminated, no, but cut down. That deep sapphire eye glances sidewise at Margie as a slender right hand comes across to absently toy with a slim, oceanic blue-diamond ring set on the fourth finger of his left hand. One who did not know Sigurd would judge from this action that he was extremely nervous; but in reality, he is in intent thought. Not about what to say to her- he knows what is to be said- but what could be causing her to feel this way. It still wouldn't do to say something that would make Margie explode, but Sigurd has learned long ago what not to say. "Something that was not important would not make you act this way. Is it something you can tell me about, dear one? Would it make you feel better to talk?"
How very curious. Was Marguerite's worries really so pronounced? She really was doing quite the vallient effort at playing fine-and-well enough. Not because the Shevvites had so sweetly suggested it to her, but rather because.. Well, if she could tell no one anything, why worry them with things that she could not express? Suspicion on the Yggdrasil's part could be easily attributed to her telling them so.. And then Gabriel.. "I.. do I seem upset? I'm sorry.. I'm just..." Very much so, actually. But.. "I.." Frustration. She clenches her fingers tightly into the edges of her cloak for a brief moment, fretting over what to say and what she can say. Realizing that gestures are just as worrisome as anything else, she only sighs very slightly, and instead folds her hands on her lap. Well. She might not be able to say quite a lot of what was worrying her, but there was yet one worry she could voice. "...Why..." A small pause, wondering how to word this. "Why.. can't I seem to do anything -right-? I try and I try to do the right thing and yet.. Yet in the end, you all had to come to my rescue again, when I really did think that I was making the right choice.." Self-piteous words, and yet.. Somehow, her tone of voice seems more frustrated than not.
Sigurd frowns slightly. So -that- is what it is. Sigurd is not a telepath, after all; he can't tell her thoughts. And so those emotions, which fit Marguerite's explanation just as well as they do her unsaid secrets. "Don't be sorry. You did make the right choice; not meeting with them might not have have had wonderful ramifications either. It is the 'ambassador' who has perhaps made the wrong choices." The grim set of Sigurd's lean jaw can only accentuate his words; you do -not- mess with his charges and get away with it. Well, unless you're Hyuga's wife, maybe. But Sigurd doesn't know that. And a wry smile finds his lips at Margie's next phrase: "Would you rather we not come to your rescue? We come because we love you. And if we were annoyed with you, we would have shown it. This crew is almost entirely male, after all." Sigurd's hand goes to cover hers, but as the first barely-there contact is made, he receives a 'shock' of emotion that momentarily disorients him, sending flashes of frustration across his vision. Jerking back slightly, he blinks, and shields his empathy a moment to resume the touch, his hand covering hers.
The ambassador made the wrong choices? Ah, were only it that simple! If this were all just an issue of getting kidnapped from a second-rate peace treaty, then things would be a touch easier. But yes, yes.. So much frustration, irritation, so much blurry emotion... It can all be attributed neatly to her feeling such towards herself alone for her shortcomings. And she laughs briefly at his comment--Hm, yes, were they irritated at her, it rather would have shown. But it was not quite that simple. Why couldn't it be? "I know.. I know. And I'm grateful, of course, and glad, but..." A small frown draws to her face at that, "I just wish that I could do something to help all of you for a change. Instead of always making the wrong choices, doing the wrong things, getting into trouble.." And trusting the wrong people for peace, getting her guardian in danger and trouble as well, playing all nice and polite only to be used as a tool for Shevat's own convenience... She trails off then if just for the necessity of shutting herself up. At least until she can manage a more quiet, "At this rate, I'm just managing to be a burden..." And.. A small blink is given then, enough to distract her off of this little self-piteous frustration, wound somewhere in there with frustration as well, as he puts his hand on hers, blinking a little at the mild recoil but not questioning. Merely, she attempts to manage a smile--However small and weak as it is--Before she shakes her head, "I'm sorry.. I really didn't intend to worry anyone over this."
Sigurd makes a mock moue of disapproval. "What did I tell you about making the wrong choices, about doing the wrong things? Everyone does it at this age sometimes, and it might feel overwhelming sometimes. I made my own share of bad choices when I was your age... I did my own share of wrong things..." But we'd rather not think about that, would we, Sigurd? "So you are never alone on these issues. And you are not a burden. You are the leader of a country, and with your standing, there is no way that you can sit by and not have things happen to you that are not pleasant. My reason for being here is to help you avert them. I could never curse you for getting into trouble; least of all over a thing that you must go through with because of your obligation to your people. I can only curse those that do this to you." The hard line of his jaw tightens at the thought, but quickly smoothens as he glances at her face. It is dejected, downcast, a small smile set in place to hide the inner pain. Unable to sit by objectively while she looks so upset, he slides over slightly, and hugs Margie tightly, stroking his hand down her back. "You should not torture yourself over such things so much, dear one."
You know... Despite how Margie is only really able to say a fraction of the story, and so much of it yet remains untold.. It's amazing how such words and gestures are still of comfort. But she blinks at that hug, a little taken aback at how out of the blue that was, and yet.. Despite everything going wrong, despite everything that happened and all the stress that's come of it, somehow this still is a comfort. One can practically see the fretting emotion soften in her eyes, distracted for a moment to these kinder thoughts that come of one trying to help. And so she returns a small and grateful hug for how he's listening and trying to help despite how mute she's having to be on this, that smile upon her face a little more honest, "I know, I know... It's just frustrating. I might not be able to evade mistakes, or dodge how I'll always be the focus of anyone whose eyes are on Nisan, but... I really do wish that things could just go peacefully and well for a change, without something going wrong or someone butting in." Even though Margie really has no malevolance towards the Dark Yggdrasil, for all that they were really less part of the problem than they were just affiliated with it. But for all the frustrated worry that still dances in her mind.. It's amazing how it can be muted simply by the realization that, mute as she must be or not, she still is not alone. And no one blames her for it. Why does that alone seem to make things somehow more manageable?