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| I've Seen Diamonds Cut Through Harder Men; TAG: Catherine Dudley | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Nov 18 2010, 10:27 PM (254 Views) | |
| Caterina Sforza | Nov 18 2010, 10:27 PM Post #1 |
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It had been a long time Caterina had spent in England now. She had arrived in August and had stayed, attempting to settle her business. Honestly, Caterina was not rushing her cause. She knew why: she loved England now. She loved the rain, the flat plains, the grass.. she loved everything about it, including, as terrible as it may seem, the absence of her children, not to mention that she was struggling to find a reason to stay, just so she could avoid the journey at sea. Why, she even loved the feeling of missing Italy. Now, Caterina loved her children. She loved her children more than anything else, truly. But time away from them had done her good. She felt wonderful and free. She had left not long after giving birth to her 6th child, and though her heart was broken at the thought of leaving behind such a young baby, she had always been a mother set on mothering in ways that did not require her to actually be there. It was a normal thing to do, of course, but Caterina's absence was much more frequent, and somehow more uncaring than what was conventional. She only sought to make them smart, good rulers.. not loving, dependent apes (though her love for them was clearly shown in the frequency of her letters and kind words). Her children would grow up more resilient because of it, she hoped. But now it was the holiday seasons and she found herself, despite the relief of not having her children around, saddened by that very thought. One thing she loved most of all was the giving of presents in the beginning of January.. seeing the faces of her young spawn light up as they were presented with the best of items Caterina could find for them, and Ottaviano showered with gifts from men hoping to see his favor in the future. God, how she nearly cracked under the sadness. But she wouldn't. Not Caterina. Defying any such nonsensical emotions she found herself eager to be distracted. She found herself gliding toward the Christmas celebrations. The room was merry with decorations, people laughing, dancing.. and, best of all, wine. The best thing to brighten one's mood was surely wine, Caterina thought. At least, in her case, that was surely the truth. Nothing short of wine, and her own stubbornness could keep her mind off her children.. and yet, she longed to cry out and grasp for someone of the same hurt she was feeling. With no hope of success, she, of course, settled herself in the hall, her mind not muddled by thoughts of missing her children, but rather on that of the English merriment of Christmas. Her mulled wine was in her hand and she sipped it only when she noted the illustrious Catherine Dudley. Caterina had liked her when they first met, though it was a brief meeting. And so, she stood, and found her way to the lady. "I thought you did not dance," she said when approaching her with a slight grin, her Milanese accent thick over her otherwise perfectly pronounced words. "It is an odd thing to be at a hall so merry with it, if you do not care for it." She paused. "Buongiorno, Signora. How are you?" she only asked after the pause, the friendly tone she'd kept when they first met not gone from her voice. |
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| Catherine Willoughby | Nov 22 2010, 09:24 PM Post #2 |
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vérité sans peur
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Having sat on the news that she would be a mother come summer and avoided some of the Christmas festivities she could, Catherine decided to venture out to the great hall for Saint Stephen's Day, the day after Christmas. It was a rowdy celebration, far worse than the one that followed the fasting on Christmas Eve and Mass. Everyone was here, any man and woman who could possibly think of any way to be at court was there. A feeling of claustrophobia began to set in soon after she took her first steps into the crowded great hall, the smells of greenery and floral decorations combating with the smell of wine and food. All through supper, she picked at the feast, the best of the best for the insanely consuming court, occasionally indulged in some chatter, but mostly wished she could go crawl into bed and avoid all the noise. When dinner had finished and the plates were being taken away, she thought she could sneak off. It seemed not to be to poor Catherine who felt quite set-upon by the entire situation, watching as courtiers--among them her husband--go chattering with various people, to give them compliments of the season, and so on. If John were there, she would have leaned against his shoulder and pleaded with him that they would leave, but he was not, and so she grabbed a goblet of wine and sipped at it. The warm, spiced liquid felt tasted wonderful, warming her insides, calming her ever-increasing nerves. A familiar voice came to her ears. Catherine turned her head to see the powerful lady, Caterina Sforza, someone she admired; someone some seemed to fear. She seemed nothing more than cordial and an enjoyable conversation perhaps awaited to entertain her. Giving Caterina a small smile, she said, "Oh, I enjoy watching the dancing, as far as I am not asked to go out there. I would, yet I think my lord my husband despises it as much as I; so I am freed from it." Her laugh was short. She knew she most likely looked fairly tired, her pale skin even paler thanks to the lack of sleep and discomfort that had been following her about for the past few weeks. "I am well enough. Not as well as I would wish to be, but--enough." She considered sharing the details of her condition with the lady who she knew had children of her own. "As a fellow woman," she continued carefully, "I am sure you would understand how I have been feeling." The Italian woman seemed to have a sharp mind, from the one conversation they had months before. Catherine hoped that sharp mind would easily cut to the chase, for she did not want others to hear of her news so easily. |
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[align=center]"I must shape my own coat according to my cloth, but it will not be after the fashion of this world but fit for me." Catherine is in 2 threads. [/align] | |
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| Caterina Sforza | Dec 3 2010, 12:08 AM Post #3 |
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Caterina was glad to be accepted by Catherine and took the liberty to take a seat next to her, all at the same time attempting to take a sip from the warm wine in her hands. She was, luckily, rather coordinated and succeeded in her task of doing both at the same time, with amazing grace. A grin spread across her face, not at the delight of the wonderful mulled wine (though it might as well have been, for she loved it) but at Catherine's response to her inquiry about the dancing. Their first conversation had been of the many toes Catherine might be stepping on while dancing, and now she was claiming to be liberated from the task. The correlation amused Caterina. "Your husband damages as many toes on the dance floor as you do, does he?" she asked jokingly, another referral to the conversation they had shared earlier. "Truly a shame the two of you are not dancing. The entertainment value might be priceless." With another sip of her citrus mulled wine, she moved her eyes to the dance floor, which was more coordinated and less entertaining than she might hope. Now, Caterina enjoyed dancing (she quite loathed music, but only because it was a skill she had never been able to master and that fact irked her.. she found it otherwise quite soothing and nice) as she had always been quite adept at it.. but she was bored by watching others do the deed. On occasion, however, she looked upon the dancers as men in battle, each holding a sword, dancing through meticulous steps to cut a man's throat... it gave her perspective, she thought. It was the reason she was such a good fighter, truly, though she never realized it. Her eyes moving back to Catherine, she caught her eyes and thought for a second about what she had said. It did not take Caterina long to understand her meaning. Her eyebrows shot up in delight and the smile that had covered her face due to the wine and merriment was now one of joy on behalf of the pregnant lady in front of her. As Catherine seemed to wish to be discreet about it, however, Caterina decided not to speak too loudly. though over the music and merriment she did not fear being overheard when she spoke at a normal tone, saying: "Signora! che bello per te!" When she had not expressed utter delight at it, Caterina simply assumed (knowing well from experience) that she was unhappy at the nausea and other bothersome symptoms. "You do not seem overly delighted," she said, unable to keep a small tone of delight from her voice, though she was showing genuine concern. "Is it the symptoms that are bothering you?" |
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| Catherine Willoughby | Dec 3 2010, 07:21 AM Post #4 |
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vérité sans peur
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"Oh, if you truly wish to be entertained, I will find him and demand he dance with me. If he actually agrees--which I don't think he would--then you may laugh all you want as we stumble together like fools." The idea of making an idiot out of herself wasn't one Catherine liked much, thus the sarcastic words and a saucy roll of her eyes. "I would not know. He says he does not enjoy it, but we have not danced together. I have managed to avoid it for now! Had I the skill then I am sure I would love it, as they do," she continued, gesturing a hand to those in the middle of the hall going through the sets of dances to merry music, "but instead I sit and talk to you. I like that much better." A smile was flashed Caterina's way: not a simpering, flattering smile but an honest one, here today, gone tomorrow. The young woman's laugh, when it came at Caterina's exclamation and later comment, was dry and hollow, a pathetic attempt at laughter. Catherine sipped at the goblet, the fine wine spiced with cinnamon to make it palatable even for those who turned their noses up at such drinks, before shaking her head in response to Caterina's words. "Look at you: you are happier than I!" At heart, she truly was amused that the Italian woman seemed so delighted by the news she had shared. "No. No, I am not exactly happy. I have my reasons." Her words were picked carefully amongst the truth she could have disclosed, but decided against. "My lord my husband certainly is, though I would imagine most men are; they do not have to deal with such trials, only a bit part in such things," she said with a twinkle in her blue eyes, vaguely embarrassed by what she considered her shamelessness in even discussing such things in public. Clearing her throat, a vague flush coming to her cheeks now that she thought of what she had said (oh, dear!), Catherine considered Caterina would not mind. After all, she knew the English ladies were frowned upon by the Italians by being too prudish, whilst the English ladies eyed the Italian ladies thinking them flighty and worse. "I have been ill," she finally answered the question, shrugging her shoulders, eyes downcast instead of meeting Caterina's. "Mostly I am worried and afraid." When she rose her blue eyes to meet Caterina's dark gaze, there was hesitancy in the look she gave. "Were you ever afraid of it all?" Such a brave, charismatic woman surely would not be! But if she was, Catherine would have felt so much better to know at least she was not alone in such melodramatic fears. |
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[align=center]"I must shape my own coat according to my cloth, but it will not be after the fashion of this world but fit for me." Catherine is in 2 threads. [/align] | |
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| Caterina Sforza | Dec 9 2010, 07:52 PM Post #5 |
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Caterina much appreciated the Lady's outwardly saucy manner. She was, as all English women, a bit of a prude in Caterina's opinion, but she was at the very least unconventional in her prudishness, which, she thought, was most likely why Francesca had kept hr around. Caterina had noted that her words were well-chosen and sharp, which Caterina found endlessly amusing, no doubt the Queen might too. Caterina grinned at Catherine's words, and decided that no reply was necessary, as surely they had both been jesting.. though Caterina still felt a little nag in the back of her mind that longed to see Catherine dance. She knew that it might be amusing beyond measure. "At least with me, you should not fear to break any toes. I hope so, at the very least," she said, grinning as she pulled her feet further underneath her skirt to supplement her obvious jesting, though it was more a passing comment than any joke with a direction. A look of sympathy took over Caterina's expressions. It was not a sympathy that expressed any kind of pity or otherwise derogatory emotion. It was simply sympathy, a short, albeit light-hearted, sadness expressed in the knowledge that Catherine was not as happy about her pregnancy as Caterina was. "Men, even the foul ones, become ever-less foul when they hear of their wives bearing children. Even more so if they learn of their child being a boy. As you rightly said, they do not have to go through the strenuous task of being pregnant, so they have no trouble rejoicing.. if only they could. They might think better of rubbing their joy in our tired, bloated faces." Catherine asked Caterina that question she had been asked before, but had never known the answer to. Had Caterina been afraid, over a decade ago, when she first learned that she was pregnant? She sat, for a second, and thought. She knew Catherine might be seeking comfort, knowing that others felt as she did. But Caterina couldn't, for the life of her, recall ever being scared. She would not lie to Catherine, so she shook her head. "No, I did not feel scared." She paused, still thinking. "Maybe, when I first found out I felt a twinge of fear. But it is so long ago now that I do not recall it. I sought remedies, that might secure the safety of my child and myself. I was told that the planets foretold nothing but grand news for what was to come. Most women, I have been told, are afraid when they first have children.." She thought of any comforting words she mgiht give Catherine. Caterina was motherly in nature, and desperately sought to comfort Catherine, but only came up with ridiculous words that she thought might not even help. She still tried: "If you fear dying in childbirth, it helps to have a greater perspective. It is out of your hands, what your fate will be.. fearing what is to come only seeks to ruin what precious time you might have left. I apologize for being so bleak, my Lady. But, as it were, here I am, having given birth to 7 children myself, not a single scratch to show for it. I should be more than happy to concoct you something for your health, and point you in the direction of a reliable astrologer, so that you might be as lucky as I?" Caterina desperately sought to help, but she was on occasion much too blunt to think of comforting words. She did not believe in deceit, only honesty and optimism. |
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6:34 AM Jul 11