018 - [offline]
[She'd waited a few days before venturing outside, partly so that she could come to terms with what she might find, and partly because she lacked opportunity. But Tybalt did eventually have to go back out in search of firewood, and when he did, she slipped from the house herself, PCD in her bag, her shawl giving her little protection against the cold. She had to see for herself. If the gravestones showed things as they were, or would be, she could see what had led to her cousin's death, and what might lead to hers. That the date on the gravestone Tybalt had found was only two days from the last time she was in Verona disturbed her.]
[It did not take her long to find a gravestone with a name she recognized. Mercutio's. She reached out to trace the letters of his name, and steeled herself to face whatever vision would come to her. When it did, she watched the street fight with hands clasped in front of her chest, and tears sliding down her cheeks. There were no words that she could hear, but there didn't need to be. She could read the sentiment well enough. The reason for the fight mattered not - it had only needed an excuse to happen. And until Romeo had tried to intervene, the fight had looked as if it could go either way. In trying to help, her husband had cost his best friend his life. Little wonder he had attacked her cousin.
Tybalt's grave was nearby, but that one she moved quickly past. She'd seen what led up to his death - she had no desire to see it herself. Instead, she peered through the fog, looking for the grave he had seen the other day. It sat a little ways off, the name and date exactly as she'd seen it in the PCD. What Tybalt hadn't noticed, though, was Romeo's grave beside it. Either he'd been too overwhelmed by the sight of her own, or it had been hidden in the mists. She wiped at her eyes and waited. It was morbid, perhaps, to want to see one's own death, especially as she'd been cautioning all her friends to not linger near the graves. But two days....
She gasped when the phantom images presented themselves. Her own form, stretched out on what looked like a slab in the family crypt, clothed in the wedding dress Nanny had made her. Romeo kissing her, then drinking from a small bottle.
"No!"
But of course, the phantom could not hear her. She watched with wide eyes as her husband convulsed and collapsed beside her phantom self, which now rose, as if from sleep. And when that Juliet discovered her husband dead, she watched it pull his dagger from its sheath and lift it high into the air, a blissful smile on its face.
She shut her eyes and screamed, her bag falling to the ground at her feet.]
[OOC: Feel free to stumble across a traumatized Montague.]
[It did not take her long to find a gravestone with a name she recognized. Mercutio's. She reached out to trace the letters of his name, and steeled herself to face whatever vision would come to her. When it did, she watched the street fight with hands clasped in front of her chest, and tears sliding down her cheeks. There were no words that she could hear, but there didn't need to be. She could read the sentiment well enough. The reason for the fight mattered not - it had only needed an excuse to happen. And until Romeo had tried to intervene, the fight had looked as if it could go either way. In trying to help, her husband had cost his best friend his life. Little wonder he had attacked her cousin.
Tybalt's grave was nearby, but that one she moved quickly past. She'd seen what led up to his death - she had no desire to see it herself. Instead, she peered through the fog, looking for the grave he had seen the other day. It sat a little ways off, the name and date exactly as she'd seen it in the PCD. What Tybalt hadn't noticed, though, was Romeo's grave beside it. Either he'd been too overwhelmed by the sight of her own, or it had been hidden in the mists. She wiped at her eyes and waited. It was morbid, perhaps, to want to see one's own death, especially as she'd been cautioning all her friends to not linger near the graves. But two days....
She gasped when the phantom images presented themselves. Her own form, stretched out on what looked like a slab in the family crypt, clothed in the wedding dress Nanny had made her. Romeo kissing her, then drinking from a small bottle.
"No!"
But of course, the phantom could not hear her. She watched with wide eyes as her husband convulsed and collapsed beside her phantom self, which now rose, as if from sleep. And when that Juliet discovered her husband dead, she watched it pull his dagger from its sheath and lift it high into the air, a blissful smile on its face.
She shut her eyes and screamed, her bag falling to the ground at her feet.]
[OOC: Feel free to stumble across a traumatized Montague.]