the world keeps spinning
Sep. 29th, 2005 12:41 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fenellaOh, when will it stop?
Fandom: Tanya Huff
Character: Henry Fitzroy
Why: Because I'm a freak like this sometimes.
Warning: Unbetaed, overusage of extended A Midsummer's Night Dream analogy. My apologies, Master Will. Am largely tired, read at own risk.
<><><><>
The Eternal Countryman
<><><><>
Henry’s been around long enough to know that people never change.
Sure, people change; they grow old, they fight, they forgive and forget, they fall in love, and then they fall right back out again. Inevitably, people do change.
But Henry isn’t talking about people - he’s talking about humanity. People, as one giant mess. Sure they’ve gotten a little taller, and now and then they pretend to care about ethics, and morals – whatever those are – but it’s the same thing century after century.
Lysander and Demetrius are still stumbling about in the forest, quarrelling as they do. And while Hermia’s hair gets a little longer now and then, Helena’s dress is loses a few more inches from the hem. But when the curtain falls, the acts are all the same. And history runs its course again.
As the New Year wears on, some people take too much while others have nothing to give. Removed from the common man, Kings hide in their castles, ruling their courts as if they aren’t made of sand. Night rides in the countryside in a red convertible, men and women wearing their suits of synthetic armor. Rust went out with chivalry and they wear their new shining leather simply because they can.
Henry misses the days when buildings were shorter but no less grand, and times when people could tell a story worth two thousand sketches. He misses the art of his language, one that was murdered alongside the King’s English. And he misses the respect for such a King, one that is long since dead.
But for all the things that Henry misses, he takes comfort from the ones that stay the same.
Parents still kiss their children on the forehead, and tell them that everything will be all right. Henry almost believes this too, for a second every time. When Mums pull their kids back from the road he invariably catches a flicker of Norfolk’s face. Henry is two again, and running wildly underfoot in the stables.
People still believe in good, and the power that it has. Henry’s stopped correcting them years ago; for what it’s worth, people still need hope.
There’s always those days that Henry wants to curl up and disappear, although now they’re few and far between. He watches people hurt each other, people say that say cruel, unforgivable things. Henry’s stopped caring so much, when they’re directed at him.
Henry wonders if one day he’ll stop caring altogether and briefly, if they were to open him up – would they find a lump of coal in his chest?
Sometimes he snaps at people, the kind that are hard to come by, like Tony - the people who he can hurt not because he’s Henry Fitzroy, undead, but just because he’s Henry. He takes a certain pride in hurting the ones that for some strange reason hold a share in his trust. He never quite remembers how they got there, and realizes that it’s certainly not safe to stay there.
So sometimes he provokes them just to see their reactions – the next best thing to feeling alive, he’s decided, is to make someone else feel alive. Tony can’t contain his emotions, and this is partly why Henry likes him so much.
When Henry discovers much to his surprise that Tony, uneducated as he is, is a great deal smarter than the people that have been stomping all over Tonys for centuries through out history, Henry is disappointed in people all over again. How can they be so blind? When is it that Demetrius starts to see the trees through the forest, or should it be the forest for all the trees?
Henry doesn’t really care which it is – he’s too busy being fascinated with what he sees. He studies with utmost curiosity the way that Tony wears his moods like Henry himself would wear a new shirt, or a pair of shoes.
Henry watches, amazed at Tony’s capacity to care, and he begins to make a list. Anger, fear, scorn, resentment, adoration, amusement… It doesn’t ever seem to end so Henry decides that this requires further, proper, attention.
And because sometimes good does all right in the end, and at some point Demetrius started seeing Helena for all the trees and forest, Henry sets out to make Tony Foster’s life a living hell.
Fandom: Tanya Huff
Character: Henry Fitzroy
Why: Because I'm a freak like this sometimes.
Warning: Unbetaed, overusage of extended A Midsummer's Night Dream analogy. My apologies, Master Will. Am largely tired, read at own risk.
<><><><>
The Eternal Countryman
<><><><>
Henry’s been around long enough to know that people never change.
Sure, people change; they grow old, they fight, they forgive and forget, they fall in love, and then they fall right back out again. Inevitably, people do change.
But Henry isn’t talking about people - he’s talking about humanity. People, as one giant mess. Sure they’ve gotten a little taller, and now and then they pretend to care about ethics, and morals – whatever those are – but it’s the same thing century after century.
Lysander and Demetrius are still stumbling about in the forest, quarrelling as they do. And while Hermia’s hair gets a little longer now and then, Helena’s dress is loses a few more inches from the hem. But when the curtain falls, the acts are all the same. And history runs its course again.
As the New Year wears on, some people take too much while others have nothing to give. Removed from the common man, Kings hide in their castles, ruling their courts as if they aren’t made of sand. Night rides in the countryside in a red convertible, men and women wearing their suits of synthetic armor. Rust went out with chivalry and they wear their new shining leather simply because they can.
Henry misses the days when buildings were shorter but no less grand, and times when people could tell a story worth two thousand sketches. He misses the art of his language, one that was murdered alongside the King’s English. And he misses the respect for such a King, one that is long since dead.
But for all the things that Henry misses, he takes comfort from the ones that stay the same.
Parents still kiss their children on the forehead, and tell them that everything will be all right. Henry almost believes this too, for a second every time. When Mums pull their kids back from the road he invariably catches a flicker of Norfolk’s face. Henry is two again, and running wildly underfoot in the stables.
People still believe in good, and the power that it has. Henry’s stopped correcting them years ago; for what it’s worth, people still need hope.
There’s always those days that Henry wants to curl up and disappear, although now they’re few and far between. He watches people hurt each other, people say that say cruel, unforgivable things. Henry’s stopped caring so much, when they’re directed at him.
Henry wonders if one day he’ll stop caring altogether and briefly, if they were to open him up – would they find a lump of coal in his chest?
Sometimes he snaps at people, the kind that are hard to come by, like Tony - the people who he can hurt not because he’s Henry Fitzroy, undead, but just because he’s Henry. He takes a certain pride in hurting the ones that for some strange reason hold a share in his trust. He never quite remembers how they got there, and realizes that it’s certainly not safe to stay there.
So sometimes he provokes them just to see their reactions – the next best thing to feeling alive, he’s decided, is to make someone else feel alive. Tony can’t contain his emotions, and this is partly why Henry likes him so much.
When Henry discovers much to his surprise that Tony, uneducated as he is, is a great deal smarter than the people that have been stomping all over Tonys for centuries through out history, Henry is disappointed in people all over again. How can they be so blind? When is it that Demetrius starts to see the trees through the forest, or should it be the forest for all the trees?
Henry doesn’t really care which it is – he’s too busy being fascinated with what he sees. He studies with utmost curiosity the way that Tony wears his moods like Henry himself would wear a new shirt, or a pair of shoes.
Henry watches, amazed at Tony’s capacity to care, and he begins to make a list. Anger, fear, scorn, resentment, adoration, amusement… It doesn’t ever seem to end so Henry decides that this requires further, proper, attention.
And because sometimes good does all right in the end, and at some point Demetrius started seeing Helena for all the trees and forest, Henry sets out to make Tony Foster’s life a living hell.
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i vamp you
Date: 2005-09-29 09:44 pm (UTC)i really enjoyed this, especially the evil bite to the last line which tied together everything that came before.
you're big into that shakespeare "all the world's a stage, and all the people players" view of life, aren't you?
i never bothered to think about why tony fascinated henry so much. i always thought that tony was second to vicki for henry (you STILL haven't read the "Blood" series): since he can't have vicki, he settles for what he does have, tony being a habit already and knowing his secret. it seemed like a really unequal relationship to me.
i think you're right though. by the time we get round to the vancouver/tony series--tony's grown up, and wants his independence, and dumps henry-- i think that tony's definitely more than just habit, or second best, or property (even if henry would like to see him that way). good on you for spotting this and writing about it.
and the bit about henry poking people's emotions with a stick to see them jump.... yup.... poor tony. bad vampire! drop! it's a good thing tony's got the magician thing going on, and a few tricks of his own up his sleeve-- as soon as he figures out how to use them.
imogen
PS. the arsenic and the cake went over my head. waaaaaaayyy over. i'm still waiting for it to fall back out of the sky and hit me over the head with enlightenment... or pie. mmmmm.... pie. i hope it's cherry.
Re: i vamp you
Date: 2005-09-30 02:06 am (UTC)And yes, I'm rather fond of that Shakespearian-esque concept. How could you tell? It's facinating. My history prof was saying something that really caught my interest, along these lines. He was describing the calendar year that they would use for mass and office hours in Medieval monastaries - and how both the calendar that follows Jesus' life and the calendar of the saints are two cycles, essentially turning side by side, one on top of the other. As well, he said something that I can't quite remember, but It really struck me. It was about just how strange it is, that every year we celebrate the birth/life/death of Jesus - "fixed" events in history, yet we make them rehappen every year. Does that make any sense? It was just really powerful how he said it, and it caught my attention. Blah for not remembering early morning lectures word for word.
And I really like: "bad vampire! drop!" Heh.
no subject
Date: 2005-09-30 06:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-30 03:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-30 11:00 pm (UTC)Halloo your name.