03-29-2021, 09:14 PM
Hale Residence, Kerlile
Finlay Hale knocked on his cousin’s bedroom door once more, expecting to be refused entry once more, as he had been every day since Emma had brought him here. To his surprise, however, she pulled open the oak door, leaning against it and looked at him with a resigned expression on her face. Her hair was dishevelled and had grown longer than she usually wore it. She was wearing a nightdress and smelled as if she hadn’t washed in a week. He’d been in a Kerlian prison, he’d seen and smelled far worse. He smiled at her.
“Have you decided you’ll talk to me, then?” he asked her pleasantly.
“You’re going to keep knocking every day until I speak to you, aren’t you?” Jennifer sighed, then without waiting for an answer, continued. “The small kitchen, give me half an hour and I’ll speak to you there. I want cake.”
She shut the door on him, and he sighed, heading towards the smallest kitchen and looking for a servant who actually knew where the cake was kept. Behind the door, Jennifer had turned on the en-suite shower and was digging through a wardrobe for something semi-respectable to wear. Entertaining a male, a first cousin at that, in her nightdress was not a done thing either in Kerlile or abroad. She spent no more than fifteen minutes in the shower, but she managed to wash her hair and get rid of the smell.
Councillor Hale dressed and glared at her reflection in the mirror. She hated her hair like this and she looked pale and depressed enough that she actually put on make-up, something which she rarely did in Kerlile where it wasn’t expected from any social class. She tied back the hair, but it still didn’t work for her. She grabbed a cap from the wardrobe which had the name of the Lauchenoirian football team she’d supported on it, and shoved the hair under it, before going to meet her cousin.
In the small kitchen (one of three on the property) she joined Finlay at a small wooden table on which rested a large chocolate cake and a pot of tea. Gratefully, she poured herself a cup, sipping it and pushing the knife towards Finlay. “Cut me a slice?”
“Is that not against social protocol?” Finlay smiled jokingly at her. “A man cutting a woman’s cake in Kerlile, of all places.”
“Emma doesn’t trust me with knives,” she replied. “Thinks I’ll… well.”
Way to kill the mood. Finlay silently cut them both slices of chocolate cake and slid one over to Jennifer, taking a bite of his own and waiting for her to speak. She took two bites and stirred some sugar into her tea before she sighed.
“She fetched you because I won’t get out of bed. Well, look at me. I’m out of bed. I still don’t intend to go to the Council Chambers or leave this property until I can return to Lauchenoiria in 2023. So, you can report back that I’m fine and not at risk. This is a… political protest.”
“Uh huh,” Finlay said sceptically. “That’s why you haven’t spoken to any members of the media about it. Or informed the Council, who you’re protesting against. Or the fact that you went from being almost inseparable from your young daughter to only seeing her for an hour a day when your servants bring her to your room?”
Jennifer had no response to any of that. She continued sipping her tea, then stood up and opened a cabinet, plucking a bottle of wine out without looking, knowing exactly where it was. She produced two glasses from another cupboard and placed them on the table.
“It’s the morning,” Finlay pointed out. Jennifer ignored him, pouring them both a glass. Finlay pointedly pushed his away to the side. “Jennifer. This is not healthy. Talk to me, please.”
“Do you know how I became a Councillor?” she asked him. “You probably don’t, it was hushed up well and you were still in prison then before I found you. They tortured Josephine. They had her at the edge of the Restricted Region, and they didn’t let me see her until she was already broken and sleep-deprived. The only way I would have had the power to free her was by joining the Council. I did not choose this life, I was forced into it under duress. And even when I saved her I lost her anyway.”
“I’m sorry,” Finlay told her. “They’ve broken so many of us, they deny people choices. But things have been getting better, and you’ve played a large part in that.”
“Have I? Pauline and I met an Aurora who was being returned to us. LOM-assigned. She sat down on the runway bawling her eyes out accusing us of planning to execute her. She didn’t believe us when we said things had changed. Like a Pierre would ever claim that if it wasn’t true! The truth is, nobody believes us. And as for President Arnott… she told me she’d support reform before she came out publicly. So, I know why. She supports reform because she deemed it politically expedient.”
She continued. “Yet the economy hasn’t improved. We have food rationing. The democracies still sanction us. Now that anti-Council sentiment is legal in some contexts, it is on the increase. How long will it be before Arnott decides oh, this isn’t actually benefitting me as much as I thought? Then she’ll roll back reforms, clamp down once again and nothing I’ve done will be worth a Lauchenoirian peso. Instead, my name will be among those hated for the cruelty of the Matriarchy.”
“I think you’re being too pessimistic,” Finlay replied gently. “We’ve achieved so much, and with the conflict in Xiomera over, the economy should start to improve. People are so much happier, and when the new elections are announced, Arnott will be praised.”
“I didn’t want to be on the Council. I didn’t want to live in this country ever again! I won’t be party to their games, their scheming, their loosening of laws only to tighten them again once enough people have stuck their heads in the noose. I hate who I am when I talk to the Council. I hate Jennifer Hale. Every time I look at her in the mirror I want to punch her smug aristocratic face.”
“Then don’t look at Jennifer Hale,” Finlay replied simply.
“What?”
“I’ve read about you and Josephine Alvarez, when you went by the name Sonja. I’ve seen the news articles of her political achievements with you by the side, looking at her with a love I can only begin to imagine. I’ve seen the videos of you and her and you look happy. Really, genuinely happy. Your own achievements in that time were not un-notable. Sonja Alvarez is you, too. When you look in the mirror, see her.”
“Sonja Alvarez never really existed.”
“Yes, she did,” Finlay nodded. “Yes, you do. This version of you, this depressed mess of a Councillor seems like a far less real person than Sonja Alvarez ever was. Who we are isn’t who we were born as. We make ourselves as we make our lives. So what if your name is legally Jennifer Hale? You can choose who to be.”
“I can’t, though,” she threw up her arms, exasperated. The wine was forgotten, untouched on the table. “I’m trapped here, in the Matriarchy. I have this job as a birth-right I don’t want and a duty I can’t escape. Even if I wanted to go back, I can’t for two more years.”
“You don’t need to go to Lauchenoiria to get back who you are,” Finlay pointed out. “The Council sucks, yes, but you can do good. You just have to push harder, take risks, and call out all their bullshit. And when the time comes, you have every right to throw in the towel and go back to Lauchenoiria. Have you spoken to Alvarez recently?”
“She doesn’t want to hear from me,” Jennifer said automatically. “Unless it’s about some intelligence backchannel, Auroras crossing borders, Xiomeran hackers, whatever… she resolutely will not take personal calls.”
“You ought to speak to her,” he said.
“She won’t listen.”
“She might if you tell her the truth, if you tell her how you really feel deep down. I can see it, I know you can see it too. The person you were then, that was real. The way you act in the Council Chambers is the act. Your love for her was genuine, you lied to protect her and you still love her. I know you’d do anything to win her back.”
“She’s the Prime Minister of Lauchenoiria. I’m a Kerlian Councillor. It’s a broken dream, even if she loved me back, she couldn’t be with me. No, I won’t ruin her life by sharing my problems with her.”
“Perhaps if you…”
“I said NO!” Jennifer yelled, slamming her hands down on the table hard enough that one of the glasses of wine toppled over and spilled. “It’s hopeless! Everything is hopeless! I love her, she can’t love me. I hate it here, I’m trapped here. I brought life into this world but I shouldn’t have because Amelia will just have to suffer like I do. She’s better off without me, and I’m better off without you teasing me. Get out of my house, Finlay.”
Jennifer stormed past him, pushing open the door so hard that a servant had to leap out of the way. She hurried back upstairs, leaving Finlay sitting at the table, sighing in her wake and eyeing the remaining glass of wine with temptation. Evidently, talking to Jennifer wasn’t going to solve any problems. He would have to try a different approach.
Finlay Hale knocked on his cousin’s bedroom door once more, expecting to be refused entry once more, as he had been every day since Emma had brought him here. To his surprise, however, she pulled open the oak door, leaning against it and looked at him with a resigned expression on her face. Her hair was dishevelled and had grown longer than she usually wore it. She was wearing a nightdress and smelled as if she hadn’t washed in a week. He’d been in a Kerlian prison, he’d seen and smelled far worse. He smiled at her.
“Have you decided you’ll talk to me, then?” he asked her pleasantly.
“You’re going to keep knocking every day until I speak to you, aren’t you?” Jennifer sighed, then without waiting for an answer, continued. “The small kitchen, give me half an hour and I’ll speak to you there. I want cake.”
She shut the door on him, and he sighed, heading towards the smallest kitchen and looking for a servant who actually knew where the cake was kept. Behind the door, Jennifer had turned on the en-suite shower and was digging through a wardrobe for something semi-respectable to wear. Entertaining a male, a first cousin at that, in her nightdress was not a done thing either in Kerlile or abroad. She spent no more than fifteen minutes in the shower, but she managed to wash her hair and get rid of the smell.
Councillor Hale dressed and glared at her reflection in the mirror. She hated her hair like this and she looked pale and depressed enough that she actually put on make-up, something which she rarely did in Kerlile where it wasn’t expected from any social class. She tied back the hair, but it still didn’t work for her. She grabbed a cap from the wardrobe which had the name of the Lauchenoirian football team she’d supported on it, and shoved the hair under it, before going to meet her cousin.
In the small kitchen (one of three on the property) she joined Finlay at a small wooden table on which rested a large chocolate cake and a pot of tea. Gratefully, she poured herself a cup, sipping it and pushing the knife towards Finlay. “Cut me a slice?”
“Is that not against social protocol?” Finlay smiled jokingly at her. “A man cutting a woman’s cake in Kerlile, of all places.”
“Emma doesn’t trust me with knives,” she replied. “Thinks I’ll… well.”
Way to kill the mood. Finlay silently cut them both slices of chocolate cake and slid one over to Jennifer, taking a bite of his own and waiting for her to speak. She took two bites and stirred some sugar into her tea before she sighed.
“She fetched you because I won’t get out of bed. Well, look at me. I’m out of bed. I still don’t intend to go to the Council Chambers or leave this property until I can return to Lauchenoiria in 2023. So, you can report back that I’m fine and not at risk. This is a… political protest.”
“Uh huh,” Finlay said sceptically. “That’s why you haven’t spoken to any members of the media about it. Or informed the Council, who you’re protesting against. Or the fact that you went from being almost inseparable from your young daughter to only seeing her for an hour a day when your servants bring her to your room?”
Jennifer had no response to any of that. She continued sipping her tea, then stood up and opened a cabinet, plucking a bottle of wine out without looking, knowing exactly where it was. She produced two glasses from another cupboard and placed them on the table.
“It’s the morning,” Finlay pointed out. Jennifer ignored him, pouring them both a glass. Finlay pointedly pushed his away to the side. “Jennifer. This is not healthy. Talk to me, please.”
“Do you know how I became a Councillor?” she asked him. “You probably don’t, it was hushed up well and you were still in prison then before I found you. They tortured Josephine. They had her at the edge of the Restricted Region, and they didn’t let me see her until she was already broken and sleep-deprived. The only way I would have had the power to free her was by joining the Council. I did not choose this life, I was forced into it under duress. And even when I saved her I lost her anyway.”
“I’m sorry,” Finlay told her. “They’ve broken so many of us, they deny people choices. But things have been getting better, and you’ve played a large part in that.”
“Have I? Pauline and I met an Aurora who was being returned to us. LOM-assigned. She sat down on the runway bawling her eyes out accusing us of planning to execute her. She didn’t believe us when we said things had changed. Like a Pierre would ever claim that if it wasn’t true! The truth is, nobody believes us. And as for President Arnott… she told me she’d support reform before she came out publicly. So, I know why. She supports reform because she deemed it politically expedient.”
She continued. “Yet the economy hasn’t improved. We have food rationing. The democracies still sanction us. Now that anti-Council sentiment is legal in some contexts, it is on the increase. How long will it be before Arnott decides oh, this isn’t actually benefitting me as much as I thought? Then she’ll roll back reforms, clamp down once again and nothing I’ve done will be worth a Lauchenoirian peso. Instead, my name will be among those hated for the cruelty of the Matriarchy.”
“I think you’re being too pessimistic,” Finlay replied gently. “We’ve achieved so much, and with the conflict in Xiomera over, the economy should start to improve. People are so much happier, and when the new elections are announced, Arnott will be praised.”
“I didn’t want to be on the Council. I didn’t want to live in this country ever again! I won’t be party to their games, their scheming, their loosening of laws only to tighten them again once enough people have stuck their heads in the noose. I hate who I am when I talk to the Council. I hate Jennifer Hale. Every time I look at her in the mirror I want to punch her smug aristocratic face.”
“Then don’t look at Jennifer Hale,” Finlay replied simply.
“What?”
“I’ve read about you and Josephine Alvarez, when you went by the name Sonja. I’ve seen the news articles of her political achievements with you by the side, looking at her with a love I can only begin to imagine. I’ve seen the videos of you and her and you look happy. Really, genuinely happy. Your own achievements in that time were not un-notable. Sonja Alvarez is you, too. When you look in the mirror, see her.”
“Sonja Alvarez never really existed.”
“Yes, she did,” Finlay nodded. “Yes, you do. This version of you, this depressed mess of a Councillor seems like a far less real person than Sonja Alvarez ever was. Who we are isn’t who we were born as. We make ourselves as we make our lives. So what if your name is legally Jennifer Hale? You can choose who to be.”
“I can’t, though,” she threw up her arms, exasperated. The wine was forgotten, untouched on the table. “I’m trapped here, in the Matriarchy. I have this job as a birth-right I don’t want and a duty I can’t escape. Even if I wanted to go back, I can’t for two more years.”
“You don’t need to go to Lauchenoiria to get back who you are,” Finlay pointed out. “The Council sucks, yes, but you can do good. You just have to push harder, take risks, and call out all their bullshit. And when the time comes, you have every right to throw in the towel and go back to Lauchenoiria. Have you spoken to Alvarez recently?”
“She doesn’t want to hear from me,” Jennifer said automatically. “Unless it’s about some intelligence backchannel, Auroras crossing borders, Xiomeran hackers, whatever… she resolutely will not take personal calls.”
“You ought to speak to her,” he said.
“She won’t listen.”
“She might if you tell her the truth, if you tell her how you really feel deep down. I can see it, I know you can see it too. The person you were then, that was real. The way you act in the Council Chambers is the act. Your love for her was genuine, you lied to protect her and you still love her. I know you’d do anything to win her back.”
“She’s the Prime Minister of Lauchenoiria. I’m a Kerlian Councillor. It’s a broken dream, even if she loved me back, she couldn’t be with me. No, I won’t ruin her life by sharing my problems with her.”
“Perhaps if you…”
“I said NO!” Jennifer yelled, slamming her hands down on the table hard enough that one of the glasses of wine toppled over and spilled. “It’s hopeless! Everything is hopeless! I love her, she can’t love me. I hate it here, I’m trapped here. I brought life into this world but I shouldn’t have because Amelia will just have to suffer like I do. She’s better off without me, and I’m better off without you teasing me. Get out of my house, Finlay.”
Jennifer stormed past him, pushing open the door so hard that a servant had to leap out of the way. She hurried back upstairs, leaving Finlay sitting at the table, sighing in her wake and eyeing the remaining glass of wine with temptation. Evidently, talking to Jennifer wasn’t going to solve any problems. He would have to try a different approach.
LIDUN President 2024 | she/her | Puppets: Kerlile, Glanainn, Yesteria, Zongongia, Zargothrax