Post by devilinthedetails on Apr 23, 2019 0:35:24 GMT 10
Title: Snapping
Rating: PG-13 for references to suicide
Word Count: 626
Themed Event: Royal Week
Summary: In their own ways, Shinko and Roald snap.
Snapping
“I’m besieged from all sides, and I don’t know which side to be more frustrated with tonight.” Roald pinched the bridge of his nose as he collapsed onto the couch in the bedchamber he shared with Shinko. He was showing what Shinko thought of as his private face that he only seemed to reveal to her. The private face was sometimes playful, sometimes passionate, sometimes morose, sometimes sarcastic, and sometimes stubborn, but it was always more expressive than the public face of polite, patient neutrality he eternally wore outside the sanctuary of their quarters. “The conservatives for complaining to me about every change my father makes or my father for making so many to give conservatives hernias and me headaches. It’s a marvel I don’t snap under the pressure from both sides.”
“I doubt your father makes the changes to give the conservatives hernias and you headaches, my dear.” Shinko didn’t mention how when Roald was irked by the changes shaking the realm like the earthquakes of the Yamani Islands, the changes were always blamed solely on his father rather than on both his parents. Roald’s familial frustrations were funneled toward his father alone. “I think he makes them because he believes they will be best for the country.”
“He may not make them with the intent of giving conservatives hernias and me headaches, but that’s the result, so it amounts to the same thing.” Roald seemed to have settled on blaming his father rather than the conservatives for all his current woes.
“I understand your father takes much criticism from conservatives on account of his changes.” Shinko kept her tone light and pleasant even if her husband’s brooding was starting to grate her nerves. “It wouldn’t surprise me if the conservatives gave him his fair share of headaches.”
“He earns those headaches. I don’t earn mine.” Roald’s mouth twisted bitterly. “I know he takes criticism. I had to listen to it ever since I could talk. As if I wanted to spend my childhood hearing my father eviscerated by conservatives.”
“At least you have a father to frustrate you.” Something inside Shinko snapped as she imagined–thankfully merely imagined rather than remembered–the ritual suicide her father had been ordered to commit for offending the emperor. “A father who loves you. Not everyone is so lucky.”
Roald was staring at her, and Shinko felt her cheeks ruby with the realization that she had done something no well-bred Yamani lady ever did: raised her voice to her husband.
“Forgive me.” She ducked her head, hiding her face behind the falling black curtain of her hair. “I was wrong to snap at you.”
“No, darling, I was wrong, and you were right.” Gentle as a breeze, Roald brushed her hair away from her face and cupped her cheek. “I do have a father who loves and frustrates me. I thank you for reminding that–and that not everyone, including you, is so fortunate. I know the loss of your father must still hurt you.”
“It was so long ago I barely remember him.” Shinko didn’t say that and the fact that she had needed to act ashamed of the man who had created her in order to survive the Yamani court were what hurt the most about losing her father. Roald must have understood all the pain she had left unspoken because he leaned in to kiss her forehead, and she almost wished she was the type of weepy woman to break down and cry into his shoulder. That would be comforting, but Shinko wasn’t one to seek comforting for past griefs even from her beloved husband. She was born and bred to be strong and bendable as a willow, not to cry over misfortunes or snap in a storm.
Rating: PG-13 for references to suicide
Word Count: 626
Themed Event: Royal Week
Summary: In their own ways, Shinko and Roald snap.
Snapping
“I’m besieged from all sides, and I don’t know which side to be more frustrated with tonight.” Roald pinched the bridge of his nose as he collapsed onto the couch in the bedchamber he shared with Shinko. He was showing what Shinko thought of as his private face that he only seemed to reveal to her. The private face was sometimes playful, sometimes passionate, sometimes morose, sometimes sarcastic, and sometimes stubborn, but it was always more expressive than the public face of polite, patient neutrality he eternally wore outside the sanctuary of their quarters. “The conservatives for complaining to me about every change my father makes or my father for making so many to give conservatives hernias and me headaches. It’s a marvel I don’t snap under the pressure from both sides.”
“I doubt your father makes the changes to give the conservatives hernias and you headaches, my dear.” Shinko didn’t mention how when Roald was irked by the changes shaking the realm like the earthquakes of the Yamani Islands, the changes were always blamed solely on his father rather than on both his parents. Roald’s familial frustrations were funneled toward his father alone. “I think he makes them because he believes they will be best for the country.”
“He may not make them with the intent of giving conservatives hernias and me headaches, but that’s the result, so it amounts to the same thing.” Roald seemed to have settled on blaming his father rather than the conservatives for all his current woes.
“I understand your father takes much criticism from conservatives on account of his changes.” Shinko kept her tone light and pleasant even if her husband’s brooding was starting to grate her nerves. “It wouldn’t surprise me if the conservatives gave him his fair share of headaches.”
“He earns those headaches. I don’t earn mine.” Roald’s mouth twisted bitterly. “I know he takes criticism. I had to listen to it ever since I could talk. As if I wanted to spend my childhood hearing my father eviscerated by conservatives.”
“At least you have a father to frustrate you.” Something inside Shinko snapped as she imagined–thankfully merely imagined rather than remembered–the ritual suicide her father had been ordered to commit for offending the emperor. “A father who loves you. Not everyone is so lucky.”
Roald was staring at her, and Shinko felt her cheeks ruby with the realization that she had done something no well-bred Yamani lady ever did: raised her voice to her husband.
“Forgive me.” She ducked her head, hiding her face behind the falling black curtain of her hair. “I was wrong to snap at you.”
“No, darling, I was wrong, and you were right.” Gentle as a breeze, Roald brushed her hair away from her face and cupped her cheek. “I do have a father who loves and frustrates me. I thank you for reminding that–and that not everyone, including you, is so fortunate. I know the loss of your father must still hurt you.”
“It was so long ago I barely remember him.” Shinko didn’t say that and the fact that she had needed to act ashamed of the man who had created her in order to survive the Yamani court were what hurt the most about losing her father. Roald must have understood all the pain she had left unspoken because he leaned in to kiss her forehead, and she almost wished she was the type of weepy woman to break down and cry into his shoulder. That would be comforting, but Shinko wasn’t one to seek comforting for past griefs even from her beloved husband. She was born and bred to be strong and bendable as a willow, not to cry over misfortunes or snap in a storm.