#♛ ⦙ v: empress of the isles / post dishonored ❳

[crownsparrow]

➤  CONTINUED.

it’s a regular occurrence that emily finds herself arguing with bashir over one thing or another.  truly,  more often than not?  she’s starved for entertainment.  the nobility she’s surrounded by on a daily basis are extraordinarily dull  —  it’s only when wyman’s in dunwall that emily’s able to hold onto some sense of entertainment.  unfortunately,  it’s all too rare that they’re in gristol,  let alone dunwall.  with a heavy sigh,  gaze drifts idly around the room…  at least she’s faced with hints of entertainment now.  

“sokolov may be growing older,  but he’s still entirely capable of accomplishing plenty,”   of course,  emily’s too fond of anton to push him beyond his limits,  so there’s a hint of annoyance in the fact that the physician is so entirely correct.   “though i suppose you make a decent point,”   a concession offered begrudgingly as the empress’ eyes roll,  and a moment later she does as he’d asked,  her leg lifting to allow an examination.

    “A decent point,” he echoed with a grin. But he looked over her wounds, brows ticking together as he tried to surmise how deep they might be. She’d still been able to walk, so that was good. Some stitching and then monitoring in the coming days to ensure it wouldn’t become infected. He’d hate to see what ‘got the Empress’ leg hacked off at the hip’ did for his medical career.

“This will sting, feel free to hit the pillow, not me, Your Majesty.” He got to work, applying something for the pain (though it was far from a perfect concoction) and began the slow process of stitching. “If you’re wondering, however, I believe the answer to your tailor’s disposition is along the lines of "peeved”.“

"don't let it go to your head," the warning fired in @dimensionalspades' direction a lighthearted quip more than a genuine warning -- truth be told, bashir is one of those surrounding her with whom emily finds herself least annoyed with... though she'd never tell him that. he's kind, gifted, and most importantly? he's not afraid of going toe-to-toe with her. he doesn't back down where so many others cringe away at the mere idea of having a bit of fun with her.

of course, not every aspect of their encounters is pleasant -- and the fact that, more often than not, she's injured when they cross paths puts a bit of a damper on things. this will sting -- and it does, the scowl on her face deepening as emily attempts to keep quiet. a matter of pride, perhaps, in looking more annoyed than pained, though she's too distracted to say for certain. "i believe my tailor will live," she manages shortly, eyes rolling in a further attempt to appear nonchalant.

[crownsparrow]

♕  STARTER CALL  ⟶  @facetedspades​

“i didn’t fall all that far,”   eyes roll dismissively,  and yet she avoids eye contact,   “and none of these cuts are especially deep.  i’m sure it’s all fine,  and i’ll say for the hundredth time that you’re overreacting,”

[crownsparrow]

↳  SEMI-PLOTTED STARTER.

setting:   the middle of the night  /  very early morning,  dunwall tower,  the royal protector’s chambers.

sleep doesn’t come easily,   as much as emily wishes it would  —  as much as she wishes for a night free of awful dreams and the uncharacteristic near-terror that comes every night as the time to sleep comes closer.  maybe it’s the fact that she never really knows what to expect;  there are so many moments in recent memory that are truly just awful.  her mother’s death,  the time spent in a place so unpleasant as the golden cat   ❪  six months waiting for corvo,  hoping he’d really come  ❫,   the second time she’d been kidnapped...  and the list doesn’t stop there.   

all of that plays a large role in the fact that emily’s spent nearly every night since returning to dunwall tower curled up beside @crownprotector​.  he’ll keep her safe,  he always has  —  and she’s sure he always will.  he’s safe,  and quite simply...  emily can’t stand to be alone.  especially not at night.

there’s a deep frown overtaking her entire expression as she rolls over,  and despite the soft whimper?  she’s still asleep  —  for the most part  —  as she flings an arm around him  —  an action that prompts the frown to fade just a little.

suddenly,  though,  breath catches in her throat as the girl finds herself pulled entirely out of the hard-earned slumber.  eyes open,  just a crack,  to try and decide if her father’s still asleep.  he has nightmares too,  she knows that,  and that makes her sad  —  though it isn’t as though emily doesn’t understand why,  to a degree.  she’s not sure how long she lays in silence before lifting her head enough to see all of his face.  the arm that’s still around him prods gently at his shoulder as her words finally come,  so quiet that a part of her fears he won’t hear her.

“corvo?”   he’s her father,  she knows that  —  in fact,  she’s known for quite a while...  or strongly suspected,  anyway  —  but it’s difficult to get into the habit of calling him anything but corvo.   “corvo...?  are you awake?”

[crownsparrow]

FROZEN II

PROMPT,   accepting.

it’s surprisingly difficult to hold off on rolling her eyes as her father continues on,   and...  admittedly,  she’s only half-listening to the speech she’s sure she’s heard at least a dozen times by now.  all about their enemies  —  her enemies  —  and how danger can come from the most unexpected of places.  emily’s never unaware of their past,  it’s never something that falls from her thoughts in one way or another,  so she’d never ever bring her mother’s death into any sort of argument when they’re both perfectly aware of just how people can surprise you in the worst ways   ❪  that doesn’t mean the temptation doesn’t rise up from time to time,  when she’s in a really foul mood,  but so far that line hasn’t been crossed  ❫.   

sighing,  emily looks up just as @crownprotector​ reaches the final point,   “we must be prepared for when that day comes."   mhmm,  it’s a familiar sentiment  —  in fact,  she’s certain she’s heard those exact words at least once a week since her coronation  —  but it’s become solidly apparent that her father has no problem with endless repetition.  it’s a theme that comes up in lectures,  in training,  in nearly every aspect of their lives:  he repeats himself,  and emily does her best to remain as patient as possible.  in training it’s easier,  she knows very well that the things he teaches need to become second nature;  but when it comes to hearing the same thing about enemies so regularly?  well,  after an especially boring day at court and in various meetings and briefings on the state of the empire,  ‘patient’ isn’t something she feels especially capable of.  not right now.

“i know,”   at least,  to her credit,  she tries not to sound annoyed  —  and trying counts for something,  right?   “will one night off make such a difference?  wyman’s only in dunwall for a day or two before they set off again,  i was hoping to spend a little time with them  —  much deserved time,  if you ask me,”   she knows no one had.

[crownsparrow]

MEMES FROM THE OTHER BLOG,   not accepting.

❛ Imagine the worst thing possible. Assume it’s true. Then go from there. ❜ (from Daud)

were it not for the knowledge she already possesses as to who @facetedspades​ is and just what he’s done,   emily might find herself at least mildly taken aback by the words.  as it sits,  though,  she’s not  —  not even a little  —  and there’s not even a hint of surprise anywhere in her as hands rest on her hips and a brow lifts.  

❪  and still,  she hasn’t so much as looked at him.  not really  ❫.

“that’s awful advice,”   nose wrinkles as she speaks,  of course,  coming from the knife of dunwall    the man who’d killed her mother  —  could emily possibly expect any different?  maybe there’s a touch of bias behind her perceptions,  but in this instance the young empress would argue that it’s very much allowed.   “you really live like that?  no,  you know what?  i don’t give a damn about how you live.”   

mercy,  justice,  fairness   —   they’re all tenets of the empire she’s fought to rebuild,  and so firm are her convictions that it’s the sort of worldview emily certain she’ll die believing in.  extending such goodwill to all who cross her path is typically easy enough,  and even in the instances when it isn’t so easy she manages all the same...  but now?  now there seems to be very little inclination to maintain the stance that’s become so integral to who she is as a ruler.

is it such a bad thing for there to be an exception,  though?  it’s not altogether outlandish that she should feel this way,  after all.

lips press firmly together as she draws in a steeling breath before finally,  actually looking at him  —  is the feeling of dread that’s settled over her just fictitious?  or is there some sort of reason for it?  void,  it’d better be imagined.   “if i were to follow your own reasoning,  daud,  i’d immediately assume you’re involved in the latest string of suspicious deaths across the empire.  still feeling inclined to stand your ground?”