[With her own boots off and placed neatly to the side, Jill makes her way into the tub to join Clive. He needn't encourage her to rest against him all that much; she's of the same mind, and she settles into place with all the ease of belonging. Like this, she rests her head against his shoulder, cheek to chest, though she doesn't look up at him. Not yet. Her focus falls instead to his hands, and she takes the left one in hers in such a way that her fingers curl under his and her thumb presses against the bare base of his ring finger.]
We've certainly made ourselves at home, haven't we? I know there's something to be said for weighing one's options but... that doesn't feel right. This does.
[Sighing softly, she shimmies just a bit so she can reach her free hand into the small leather satchel attached to her belt. From it, she procures a ring, which she holds up for him to see. It's now that she looks up at him, watching to see how he reacts. If she feels silly at all about making this proposal while they're both fully clothed in a bathtub, it doesn't show; all she outwardly bears is a sense of peace.
And maybe some nervous energy, too. The good kind – the kind where she's about to leap from an unfamiliar height with full faith that her landing will be gentle.]
So, let's seal this claim with another vow. If my ring represents a love undying, and this house a home long fought for, then let this ring symbolise sanctuary – yours in me, and mine in you. And may we find rest and respite in each other, just like this, so long as this dream keeps our house standing and our rings bearing our warmth.
[Her grip on his hand shifts so that his fingers lay upon her palm. There's a tremble to her hand that she doesn't bother to hide because she feels no shame over what effects her love for him have on her.]
Will you accept it, Clive?
[A formality; she knows he will, in the same way that he'd known she'd accept his proposal. But they didn't fight as long and as hard as they did to take each other's voices, even when they can predict which words will come, so she awaits his answer.]
[ In their tub, in their house, Clive's face softens when Jill offers him a ring in exchange for the one he'd given her, like the piece that completes a puzzle slotting into place. It's perfect for him, really--simple but striking, obviously chosen with him in mind, as her ring had been made for her hand. He's certain it will be a perfect fit.
Jill shivers with anticipation, and he pulls her in to gently kiss her lips before nodding, holding his rough hand with fingers spread so she can place the ring as she pleases. ]
I would have no other, not in this life or the next. I accept it, just as I accept you, just as you have always accepted me. Your heart has long been my refuge, my darling--the foundation upon which I built my hopes for the future, for what joy could I have ever wished for in my life beyond the shelter of your arms? When the world is uncertain, I need only look to you to find security.
[ Once she's done sliding the ring home on his finger, he takes the time to observe it in the afternoon light that slants through the opaque bathroom window, not unlike how she'd observed her ring in the moonlight on that beach. The stone glints Rosarian red, and he rubs his thumb over the smooth band. ]
Look at us. Our little family in our little house. Ours and ours alone. I could scarcely have imagined I would see this day, but here we are. How does it feel, my lady?
[The kiss, though brief, stays some of Jill's nerves, and she runs her thumb along Clive's knuckles as he says his piece. The way she gazes so lovingly into his eyes never falters, even as his words threaten to stoke the tears that already burn behind her own eyes. This time they don't fall, though, only going so far as to glisten in the muted sunlight as she slides the ring into its proper place. Once he's taken his look at it, and his hand has returned to hers, she'll hook their pinkies together so that their rings sit side by side, the silvery moon and its red star, bright once more.
How does it feel, he asks, and she doesn't need to think about it at all.]
It feels like freedom. Like our sun has finally risen. It's a prayer answered, too, isn't it, and a blessing granted. But I suppose that above all else it feels... like peace. At least, I think it does.
[A laugh, soft and teasing, a bit inward. Of course she knows. It's just that it's been so long since either of them have been able to look towards future horizons without their fate staring them down like a threat that the feeling still a bit vague, even if it's never been more pronounced than it is now.
There are more things she feels, of course, like giddy and excited. Girlish, even, in some of the ways that hope strikes her. Mournful of everything they've lost to reach this point, but immeasurably grateful as well. However fleeting it may be, they finally have the chance to exist on their own terms, in a world that doesn't need them to hold it together whilst it crumbles in on them from all directions. What more could she ask for?
None of this begs saying, though; if it's not obvious from how she shines like light in Clive's arms, then it's too dark for the mood, and for now, she just wants to be happy for a while.]
Peace. [ He hums low in his throat, rubbing his scarred cheek with the tips of his fingers inn contemplation. ] Even before... before everything that happened, I'm not sure I knew what peace felt like--not like I feel it here.
[There had been moments of calm and quiet, moments of joy, moments of happiness, but none of those could quite make up for his mother's disdain or the state of the world, fraught as it was with war and blight, slowly crumbling apart under their feet as an ancient god's machinations brought ruin to nations.
But here? Here he can be at peace, well and truly. ]
It feels like a burden has been lifted from my shoulders. I can finally be at my ease, even if I were to work the land from dawn 'til dusk. [ Wrapping his arms around Jill, he nuzzles her and kisses her again. ] It's a beautiful dream, but it's only this beautiful because you're in it. Thank you for sharing this with me, and for agreeing to be my wife.
[ But there's something else on his mind, and he thinks now would be the perfect time to pose the question he's been considering since he asked for her hand. ]
Were we still in Rosaria--were Rosaria still as it was all those years ago--you would soon be Lady Rosfield. But... we are no longer in Rosaria, and we are not bound to its customs. I am a Rosfield by birth, but I do not expect you to take that name when you bind your life to mine. The choice, then, I leave to you: take my name if you wish, or keep your own. You have accepted me, and I want only for your happiness.
[As Clive speaks of finding peace, Jill curls up more against him, letting out a happy little sigh once she's settled. She's wished for these very words to spill from his lips for so long that she can't remember ever feeling otherwise, and hearing them feels better than she'd ever imagined they would.
The way they're snuggled together now makes it easier for her to reach for him, and so she does, running the backs of her fingers along his jaw, then beneath his chin as she shifts to her fingertips to rest her hand at the side of his neck. Her thumb finds the place where his scar disappears behind his scruff, and she strokes it softly a few times before speaking.]
Thank you for asking me. To marry you, I mean, but also what I want.
[She has, of course, given it some thought already. In many ways, she stands at a crossroads, both here and back home, and she knows that part of finding herself down whichever paths she chooses will start with her establishing the frameworks of an identity. And that begins with a name.
There's a slight pause before she speaks, if only so she can decide on where to begin. It's not as easy as yes, and it's important to her that Clive understands where she's coming from.]
For a while after I arrived at Rosalith, when I'd dream of better, it would be of the North. I'd convinced myself that all my father had to do was see to a few more years of peace, and then Lord Elwin would consider the terms of their treaty fulfilled and send me home.
[The dream of a little girl who didn't know any better. Anabella and the governesses had made quick enough work of that, though, in all the ways they made it clear that they intended to snuff as much of the North out of her as they could manage. They'd never let her forget that she wasn't a Rosarian, yet they'd pushed to turn her into one all the same.]
By the time I realised that would never happen, I'd already found a new better. You, Clive. I'd practise my official signature in the margins of books I knew no one else would read, and it was always Lady Jill Rosfield. It may be your name by birth, but you and Joshua made it mine as well through love. Taking it now is my happiness.
[It's not the whole of her story, though, and so she continues.]
But I want to honour my past, too. If we're ever so fortunate as to have children of our own, I'd like to name the first after my father if it's a boy, and Silver Mae for the Silvermane should we have a girl. There are other Warricks left to carry on our name, but I was my father's only child. It's only through me that his legacy will endure.
[ As Jill speaks, Clive listens in silence, his hands roaming with gentle touches across her back, down her arms, her legs, finally settling in a loose embrace. He does not take it for granted that she is happy to be with him, given the history of their families.
Fortunately for him (and everyone else) he is nothing like his mother. He would never make her feel like an outcast on the margins of their family. He cares about what she wants more than he can rightly express, and the fact that she wants to be Jill Rosfield fills his chest with warmth like a Phoenix flame. To give her what she asks in exchange is easy, granted in a heartbeat without question, and really would have been even if she'd chosen to keep the Warrick name.
Now, if he recalls correctly, her father's name was... ]
Randolph and Silver Mae Rosfield. Both fine names indeed. They will be fortunate to have you for a mother--to know without a moment's doubt that they are cherished.
[ He doesn't know if it's even possible for them to have children in this world of dreams, and in truth, the prospect of parenthood is one he faces with a bit of trepidation. Clive still admires his father, but when he actually stops to think about what he would do differently, he can admit to himself that the man should have done more--done something, anything--to stand between his wife and his children. Clive might still never have known what a mother's love feels like, but to have been spared her obvious loathing...
No. There's no point in dwelling on it. They'll do better, he and Jill. ]
What other names shall we pick for our future children, hm? Perhaps... Hanna, for a second daughter?
[Clive's gentle touches come with equally gentle tingles that rise all the way to Jill's scalp, and she exhales, content, before reaching to tilt his face towards her for another kiss. She smiles into it before pulling away, enjoying the simplicity of being held. Time shifts into something languid and relaxed, and she knows she could easily lose the entire day to this mood, soft and slow and sweet as it is.
Maybe they can't have children here. Maybe they never will. The thought that they might is nice all the same, and she carries it forwards without getting bogged down in all the buts that would arise if she'd let them.]
And you for a father. I can see the effects of your love on Joshua even now, and I know that our children will be blessed in much the same way.
[Little Randolph and Sliver Mae Rosfield both. The names sound even better in Clive's voice than they did in her mind. And when he offers up Hanna as an option, she's all too happy to follow suit.]
If there's a Hanna, then there ought to be a Rodney, too.
[A moment's pause follows as Jill considers other names. Her own thoughts travel to Elwin – to how, for all his shortcomings, he still gave her a better life than most in his position would have. And even if she'd never really seen him as a father, she can acknowledge all the same that he'd treated her as his daughter. There are some things about him she'll never be able to accept, but nothing that leads her to believe that he doesn't deserve the same treatment as her father, should Clive desire to grant it to him.
So, her next question isn't a concession. It's no trade of one namesake for another. It's asked in earnest, in a tone that's soft and warm with a melancholic lilt.]
Would you like to honour your father as well? I wouldn't mind bringing a second Elwin into the world, or maybe an Eli or a Winnie.
Knowing how the absence of a parent’s love can affect a child, how could I do anything less than give my own all of mine that I can? They deserve nothing less.
[ The thought of Rodney Murdoch is still a painful one for Clive—the fact that it was he himself that was responsible for the death of someone he respected so much, and the pain and fear that Lord Murdoch must have experienced in his last moments as Ifrit’s flames consumed him. Ever since he’d come to terms with the fact that he was that second Dominant of Fire that he’d hunted for so long, the weight of that death and many others has sat heavily upon his shoulders.
He doesn’t show it on his face, though, beyond a moment of pensive silence and a nod. ]
Rodney Rosfield. It would be fitting.
[ Her next question is one that gives him pause. Ironic that Joshua had asked him a similar question not too long ago. Did he want to honor his father? Of course he does, but he tempers his response. ]
If we have that many children, then perhaps. I don’t want you to feel that you must simply because you wouldn’t mind it. And… there are so many feelings already attached to that name—I would not wish for a child of ours to feel beholden to the past because of the regard I hold for my father.
[The mood shifts ever slightly, but Jill hardly minds. Happiness is reduced to something ordinary when it's all one knows, and this new tone doesn't make her any less comfortable. So she finds Clive's hands. Laces her fingers between his. Tilts her face to press the gentlest of kisses to his neck.
It's difficult for her to relate to his feelings regarding Rodney. She can't begin to see it as his responsibility, since she knows, at the very least, that he wasn't in control. What that means, however, is lost to her; Shiva's never done the same in her body, always yielding to Jill's command. Except the first time, but Jill was in fetters before she could prime, then, and she remembers little of the rest.
Instead of dwelling on that part of her past, she focuses in on what Clive says about his father. On how he doesn't want her to she feel that she must. She squeezes his hands and relaxes a bit more against him with a soft exhale.]
So much of what I've done in life has been because I'd convinced myself that it must be done. I've thought a lot over the last five years about how different everything might have been if only I'd stood my ground, or... I don't know. What I mean to say is you freed me from that, and I won't disrespect all you've done by doing things for you because I feel I must.
[It's not just for his sake, though. The moment she starts looking at Clive and finding ways to obligate herself to him is the moment she's lost herself again.]
If honouring his name doesn't suit you, we'll find some other way for him to live on through us, because it's important to me that you and our children have that.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
We've certainly made ourselves at home, haven't we? I know there's something to be said for weighing one's options but... that doesn't feel right. This does.
[Sighing softly, she shimmies just a bit so she can reach her free hand into the small leather satchel attached to her belt. From it, she procures a ring, which she holds up for him to see. It's now that she looks up at him, watching to see how he reacts. If she feels silly at all about making this proposal while they're both fully clothed in a bathtub, it doesn't show; all she outwardly bears is a sense of peace.
And maybe some nervous energy, too. The good kind – the kind where she's about to leap from an unfamiliar height with full faith that her landing will be gentle.]
So, let's seal this claim with another vow. If my ring represents a love undying, and this house a home long fought for, then let this ring symbolise sanctuary – yours in me, and mine in you. And may we find rest and respite in each other, just like this, so long as this dream keeps our house standing and our rings bearing our warmth.
[Her grip on his hand shifts so that his fingers lay upon her palm. There's a tremble to her hand that she doesn't bother to hide because she feels no shame over what effects her love for him have on her.]
Will you accept it, Clive?
[A formality; she knows he will, in the same way that he'd known she'd accept his proposal. But they didn't fight as long and as hard as they did to take each other's voices, even when they can predict which words will come, so she awaits his answer.]
no subject
Jill shivers with anticipation, and he pulls her in to gently kiss her lips before nodding, holding his rough hand with fingers spread so she can place the ring as she pleases. ]
I would have no other, not in this life or the next. I accept it, just as I accept you, just as you have always accepted me. Your heart has long been my refuge, my darling--the foundation upon which I built my hopes for the future, for what joy could I have ever wished for in my life beyond the shelter of your arms? When the world is uncertain, I need only look to you to find security.
[ Once she's done sliding the ring home on his finger, he takes the time to observe it in the afternoon light that slants through the opaque bathroom window, not unlike how she'd observed her ring in the moonlight on that beach. The stone glints Rosarian red, and he rubs his thumb over the smooth band. ]
Look at us. Our little family in our little house. Ours and ours alone. I could scarcely have imagined I would see this day, but here we are. How does it feel, my lady?
no subject
How does it feel, he asks, and she doesn't need to think about it at all.]
It feels like freedom. Like our sun has finally risen. It's a prayer answered, too, isn't it, and a blessing granted. But I suppose that above all else it feels... like peace. At least, I think it does.
[A laugh, soft and teasing, a bit inward. Of course she knows. It's just that it's been so long since either of them have been able to look towards future horizons without their fate staring them down like a threat that the feeling still a bit vague, even if it's never been more pronounced than it is now.
There are more things she feels, of course, like giddy and excited. Girlish, even, in some of the ways that hope strikes her. Mournful of everything they've lost to reach this point, but immeasurably grateful as well. However fleeting it may be, they finally have the chance to exist on their own terms, in a world that doesn't need them to hold it together whilst it crumbles in on them from all directions. What more could she ask for?
None of this begs saying, though; if it's not obvious from how she shines like light in Clive's arms, then it's too dark for the mood, and for now, she just wants to be happy for a while.]
And you?
no subject
[There had been moments of calm and quiet, moments of joy, moments of happiness, but none of those could quite make up for his mother's disdain or the state of the world, fraught as it was with war and blight, slowly crumbling apart under their feet as an ancient god's machinations brought ruin to nations.
But here? Here he can be at peace, well and truly. ]
It feels like a burden has been lifted from my shoulders. I can finally be at my ease, even if I were to work the land from dawn 'til dusk. [ Wrapping his arms around Jill, he nuzzles her and kisses her again. ] It's a beautiful dream, but it's only this beautiful because you're in it. Thank you for sharing this with me, and for agreeing to be my wife.
[ But there's something else on his mind, and he thinks now would be the perfect time to pose the question he's been considering since he asked for her hand. ]
Were we still in Rosaria--were Rosaria still as it was all those years ago--you would soon be Lady Rosfield. But... we are no longer in Rosaria, and we are not bound to its customs. I am a Rosfield by birth, but I do not expect you to take that name when you bind your life to mine. The choice, then, I leave to you: take my name if you wish, or keep your own. You have accepted me, and I want only for your happiness.
no subject
The way they're snuggled together now makes it easier for her to reach for him, and so she does, running the backs of her fingers along his jaw, then beneath his chin as she shifts to her fingertips to rest her hand at the side of his neck. Her thumb finds the place where his scar disappears behind his scruff, and she strokes it softly a few times before speaking.]
Thank you for asking me. To marry you, I mean, but also what I want.
[She has, of course, given it some thought already. In many ways, she stands at a crossroads, both here and back home, and she knows that part of finding herself down whichever paths she chooses will start with her establishing the frameworks of an identity. And that begins with a name.
There's a slight pause before she speaks, if only so she can decide on where to begin. It's not as easy as yes, and it's important to her that Clive understands where she's coming from.]
For a while after I arrived at Rosalith, when I'd dream of better, it would be of the North. I'd convinced myself that all my father had to do was see to a few more years of peace, and then Lord Elwin would consider the terms of their treaty fulfilled and send me home.
[The dream of a little girl who didn't know any better. Anabella and the governesses had made quick enough work of that, though, in all the ways they made it clear that they intended to snuff as much of the North out of her as they could manage. They'd never let her forget that she wasn't a Rosarian, yet they'd pushed to turn her into one all the same.]
By the time I realised that would never happen, I'd already found a new better. You, Clive. I'd practise my official signature in the margins of books I knew no one else would read, and it was always Lady Jill Rosfield. It may be your name by birth, but you and Joshua made it mine as well through love. Taking it now is my happiness.
[It's not the whole of her story, though, and so she continues.]
But I want to honour my past, too. If we're ever so fortunate as to have children of our own, I'd like to name the first after my father if it's a boy, and Silver Mae for the Silvermane should we have a girl. There are other Warricks left to carry on our name, but I was my father's only child. It's only through me that his legacy will endure.
no subject
Fortunately for him (and everyone else) he is nothing like his mother. He would never make her feel like an outcast on the margins of their family. He cares about what she wants more than he can rightly express, and the fact that she wants to be Jill Rosfield fills his chest with warmth like a Phoenix flame. To give her what she asks in exchange is easy, granted in a heartbeat without question, and really would have been even if she'd chosen to keep the Warrick name.
Now, if he recalls correctly, her father's name was... ]
Randolph and Silver Mae Rosfield. Both fine names indeed. They will be fortunate to have you for a mother--to know without a moment's doubt that they are cherished.
[ He doesn't know if it's even possible for them to have children in this world of dreams, and in truth, the prospect of parenthood is one he faces with a bit of trepidation. Clive still admires his father, but when he actually stops to think about what he would do differently, he can admit to himself that the man should have done more--done something, anything--to stand between his wife and his children. Clive might still never have known what a mother's love feels like, but to have been spared her obvious loathing...
No. There's no point in dwelling on it. They'll do better, he and Jill. ]
What other names shall we pick for our future children, hm? Perhaps... Hanna, for a second daughter?
no subject
Maybe they can't have children here. Maybe they never will. The thought that they might is nice all the same, and she carries it forwards without getting bogged down in all the buts that would arise if she'd let them.]
And you for a father. I can see the effects of your love on Joshua even now, and I know that our children will be blessed in much the same way.
[Little Randolph and Sliver Mae Rosfield both. The names sound even better in Clive's voice than they did in her mind. And when he offers up Hanna as an option, she's all too happy to follow suit.]
If there's a Hanna, then there ought to be a Rodney, too.
[A moment's pause follows as Jill considers other names. Her own thoughts travel to Elwin – to how, for all his shortcomings, he still gave her a better life than most in his position would have. And even if she'd never really seen him as a father, she can acknowledge all the same that he'd treated her as his daughter. There are some things about him she'll never be able to accept, but nothing that leads her to believe that he doesn't deserve the same treatment as her father, should Clive desire to grant it to him.
So, her next question isn't a concession. It's no trade of one namesake for another. It's asked in earnest, in a tone that's soft and warm with a melancholic lilt.]
Would you like to honour your father as well? I wouldn't mind bringing a second Elwin into the world, or maybe an Eli or a Winnie.
no subject
[ The thought of Rodney Murdoch is still a painful one for Clive—the fact that it was he himself that was responsible for the death of someone he respected so much, and the pain and fear that Lord Murdoch must have experienced in his last moments as Ifrit’s flames consumed him. Ever since he’d come to terms with the fact that he was that second Dominant of Fire that he’d hunted for so long, the weight of that death and many others has sat heavily upon his shoulders.
He doesn’t show it on his face, though, beyond a moment of pensive silence and a nod. ]
Rodney Rosfield. It would be fitting.
[ Her next question is one that gives him pause. Ironic that Joshua had asked him a similar question not too long ago. Did he want to honor his father? Of course he does, but he tempers his response. ]
If we have that many children, then perhaps. I don’t want you to feel that you must simply because you wouldn’t mind it. And… there are so many feelings already attached to that name—I would not wish for a child of ours to feel beholden to the past because of the regard I hold for my father.
no subject
It's difficult for her to relate to his feelings regarding Rodney. She can't begin to see it as his responsibility, since she knows, at the very least, that he wasn't in control. What that means, however, is lost to her; Shiva's never done the same in her body, always yielding to Jill's command. Except the first time, but Jill was in fetters before she could prime, then, and she remembers little of the rest.
Instead of dwelling on that part of her past, she focuses in on what Clive says about his father. On how he doesn't want her to she feel that she must. She squeezes his hands and relaxes a bit more against him with a soft exhale.]
So much of what I've done in life has been because I'd convinced myself that it must be done. I've thought a lot over the last five years about how different everything might have been if only I'd stood my ground, or... I don't know. What I mean to say is you freed me from that, and I won't disrespect all you've done by doing things for you because I feel I must.
[It's not just for his sake, though. The moment she starts looking at Clive and finding ways to obligate herself to him is the moment she's lost herself again.]
If honouring his name doesn't suit you, we'll find some other way for him to live on through us, because it's important to me that you and our children have that.