"Like You Were Walking Onto a Yacht..."

[psalm_onethirtyone]

1. I'm alive! ^___^ Toe all gone, and a living!Soujin!

2. Here we present Miss Kali's extremely awful and cracktastic (AND AWFUL) Guildenstern/Ophelia/Claudius. She is depraved, citoyennes. Depraved.

If A, Then B

Ophelia in her innocence, which she wears like a white gown--the sort you pull over your head so that you suddenly come out, able to see again after the cloud of fabric--is in love with every person in the world and does not know why. Sometimes when she looks at her lord Hamlet her breath catches; and other times she feels a strange, squirmy feeling inside her whenever Guildenstern looks at her in that sharp way he has, right before he snaps something out. She blushes and desires them equally. Sometimes it's Horatio's gentle way of guiding her with his finger beneath each word as she sounds it out (he is teaching her to read), and that she desperately wants Rosencrantz to stop offering her fruits as red as the Queen's lips and instead smile his beautiful distracted smile and then kiss her own. All around her are boys and men who treat her like a delicate creature, who are so courteous to her youth and sex that it seems like reverence, and she wishes sometimes that one of them, just one, would desire her for something more than the playmate she's been allowed to be through their childhoods.

Like a handkerchief you tie in your hair or at your neck, her wishing settles on her like an ornament. It isn't enough to clothe yourself in; only enough to show up prettily. Rosencrantz admires it shyly; Hamlet ties it around his arm to wear her colours; Horatio, who thinks of her as a small sister, would like to tuck it back in her drawer; but Guildenstern doesn't see it for what it is.

Guildenstern wears his handkerchief scrunched up very small and hidden in his pocket.

When they are grown, or at least older--when Hamlet and Horatio have gone away to school, Laertes to France, and Rosencrantz and Guildenstern remain (they aren't noble enough to earn formal educations, but they are both obedient servants)--Ophelia gets letters from the ones who have left and often visits the two who have stayed. She doesn't desire Rosencrantz any more; he's silly, you couldn't possibly imagine yourself kissed by him. Hamlet's letters never say anything about love, and he's so far away; Horatio's are only news and enquiries about her; Laertes' are excited, quick, and sometimes parts of them are in French. She can't read French.

One day she finds Guildenstern and asks him if he can.

"French? No, my lady," shortly.

"Mightst thou not try?" she asks, as sweetly as she can.

"I do not know it."

"Dear Guildenstern--"

But he doesn't wait for her, he bows quickly and is gone, and she stands in the corridor blushing a little light pink with shame. Guildenstern is the only one left to her to win, if she can-- She has that pride. Quietly she wraps her arms about herself and waits, waits for the blush to fade.

She does not imagine that anyone will come upon her here, so that when the King's brother greets her from behind she startles.

"Pretty lady, how do you?"

Ophelia curtsies. "Well, please you, my lord."

Claudius is also a Prince, like Hamlet is. They both have a royal right, and they are both the sons of Kings. If her love is like a handkerchief, his regal bearing is like a cloak. He is a tall man, slender and handsome and much younger than his brother. The King looks the way you'd imagine a King--a silver beard that had been black, a good stature, a voice meant for commanding armies and strength enough to fight with them--but he is not charming. He speaks bluntly and is known to be jealous of his Queen; he belittles his son (Ophelia isn't meant to have heard it, but she has. She's heard King Hamlet shouting at Prince Hamlet, reproving him for his friendship with Horatio, cursing his failures (failures Laertes says don't exist; Laertes says the Prince is an excellent scholar, fencer, a noble youth); all this while she was hidden in the back of the room behind a tapestry, playing by herself) and demands much from his court. Prince Claudius, besides being handsome, is skilled with the people and supports where King Hamlet batters at things. Of course, she hasn't grown up with him, and he was never someone she was allowed to play with, although he seemed as though he was so kind he wouldn't have minded it, and she doesn't know him, so she never looked at him--never looked at him and wished he hold her cheek with one hand and whisper her name.

Now he smiles at her, a warm, fond smile, and says, "I am glad of't. I had hop'd 'twas so," and the colour is back on her cheeks (and she doesn't know why, truly).

Then suddenly he presses her back against the wall of the corridor, strangely gentle, and kisses her. Ophelia doesn't know how to kiss or be kissed, and she doesn't breathe until he lets her go, and his handsome face is apologetic.

"Forgive me. I have affrighted thee."

She shakes her head and then realises she is shaking all over as she curtsies again.

He holds her cheek in one hand, and murmurs, "Ophelia, pretty Ophelia--may I see thee again?"

"Ay, my lord," she whispers back, so soft that it is a moment before his face clears and he smiles.

"A gracious answer. Fare thee well."

When he is gone, she runs after Guildenstern, down the way he'd gone, until she knocks against him and wraps her small hands very tightly in his doublet, weeping. He looks down at her and then begins to stroke her hair gingerly, long pale hair in a long loose braid.

"What's happened?"

"Prince Claudius hath frighted me," Ophelia says.

Guildenstern is quite still. There is something knowing in his stillness, something, and she knows now, too, that he has been frightened also. They have both been frightened. He has been afraid longer than she has, and more afraid, and somehow it feels as new as her own fear. Slowly he reaches into his pocket and takes out his crumpled handkerchief and hands it to her.

Ophelia weeps.

She is so innocent that it dresses her; he is quiet and dark and bitter, a contained anger that everyone feels just because it's part of him--not something that clothes him, but something he is. By the end of one week, her innocence is her shadow. Now she cannot wear it, but it is always with her. Guildenstern explains, in the strange, clipped language that he and Rosencrantz have invented for one another, a language that is like hers but more difficult to comprehend, that the Prince--not Prince Hamlet--is evil. Ophelia translates and accepts it.

"I don't know why," Guildenstern says. It's what makes him angriest. "I don't know why he does it. Not just you and me--he's tried for Rosencrantz, but I don't let him. Arguing with a Prince--who does that and doesn't get executed? I don't let him. We set it up--I drew a nice little diagram." His voice is so bitter it makes her teeth hurt. "If he leaves Rosencrantz alone, he gets further with me. A Euler diagram, actually. If, then. If a, then b. Not the other way around, mind. And now you too. If a (now a is 'he leaves Rosencrantz and Ophelia alone') then b (obviously b is now 'he gets me in bed'). It's logical. It's nothing else, but it's logical, at least. At least the diagram is. There's nothing logical about him."

It goes on. Ophelia watches him with quiet, dry eyes.

Later she finds out the Prince Claudius doesn't like Guildenstern's new--diagram. His diagram. (One night Prince Claudius wants them both together, and suddenly, like when the water suddenly begins to boil, exploding in hot bubbles and burning you, she is overcome by what Guildenstern has said to her. Neither of them can protect themselves, perhaps, but there is Rosencrantz--there is Rosencrantz. At least (a set of words that means something, something) they can be sure of Rosencrantz.) Because she has learned their language, Ophelia speaks with Rosencrantz, too, and finds he's better at speaking it. She questions him as earnestly as Guildenstern does, but he always tells them both, gently confused, that Prince Claudius never even speaks to him.

At least they have that.

They have that, until Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are sent away, the very day King Hamlet dies. Prince Claudius marries Queen Gertrude at once, and Ophelia is lost. Everything's happened so quickly--she's all alone (she's frightened). Her father loves the new King because Claudius is, certainly, a clever ruler.

Then Laertes and Hamlet return, and she's safe (Hamlet offers to love her, and she can't believe it, she can't, that means she's safe--)--and then Laertes leaves again for France, but it's all right, Prince Hamlet is still with her--Horatio is there also, and she tries to stay with him always, he or Prince Hamlet--but Hamlet is mad, and Horatio is always with him, attending to him, and they won't keep her safe; Hamlet shouts at her and they won't let her hide with them--

She hasn't anyone to tell. She hasn't any way to hide herself--and then Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are called back. The first night she believes it will be all right, that something will be right, and Guildenstern kisses her hands, snaps out his anger, talks in half-sentences. The first night she puts away her shadow in the darkness and they sleep in the same bed (they are safe) (are they safe?), and at least someone has loved her more gently than the Prince who is the King now. She doesn't let him touch her, and it's all right because he doesn't want to be touched either, and for the first night they are safe.

Then the small, shallow pause is over, and the Prince is mad--Prince Hamlet kills her father, and Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are sent to take him to England, and there isn't anyone at all--it's just her, her and the King and the Queen (and Horatio, who doesn't matter because he's frightened and worried for the Prince and she can't talk to him and frighten him more and she's already so frightened and she's sure he'll not believe her). She's alone, and she's trapped, and there's no one to keep her safe.

She remembers how Prince Hamlet went mad and it somehow hid him away. If you're mad, you don't have to think, do you? If you're mad, you don't have to be afraid, because madness means something evil and people won't touch you. Perhaps if you pretend to be mad you will become mad, naturally. Perhaps--

Like a diagram. One of Guildenstern's diagrams. If you're mad, then you're safe.

Ophelia decides to try. She takes it and puts it on like a long blue dress, a long blue dress with pearl buttons and a few ribbons on the bodice, and a handful of wildflowers tucked into her hair.

Comments

[coppertone.livejournal.com]

That-- That. ! That is horrible and cracktastic and O! I think I'm in love. *vaguelyflails*

[rainbowjehan.livejournal.com]

*flailsback* I think the crack has gotten to you. It is for the awful...!

[coppertone.livejournal.com]

It is awful! It does awful things to my brain but it is wonderful.

(And asdfkjh RosnGuil and their personal language it fits and they're like twins and so it makes sense that they'd-- and adkjfgha I love that that works.)

[rainbowjehan.livejournal.com]

*hides under the rock of hidingness*

(They have their own way of communication that's different from everyone else's, and--I don't know, it worked in my head, and--gah. *hides*)

[angelsinstone.livejournal.com]

That was amazingly beautiful. It- should be more cracky than it is, but it all /fits./ *ded of impressed*

[rainbowjehan.livejournal.com]

NO NO NO IT'S JUST CRACKY. *dies generally*

[bewareofitalics]

(The whole toe, huh? *g* And YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!)

...ow. Poor Ophelia. :( And you are so good at making things work that REALLY REALLY SHOULDN'T.

[rainbowjehan.livejournal.com]

(:P You know it was just the nail, madam.)

Ophelia fails at life in Elsinore, generally. IT STILL DOESN'T WORK, AS FAR AS I'M CONCERNED.

[bewareofitalics]

(Toenailless Soujin from- that doesn't really work, does it?)

But you make her fail in such interesting ways! MAYBE NOT. BUT MY FRIEND WHO PLAYED OPHELIA WONDERED IF MAYBE SHE WAS JUST FAKING BEING CRAZY AND THIS TOTALLY WORKS WITH THAT. ER.

[rainbowjehan.livejournal.com]

(Michigan? It rhymes! TOELESS SOUJIN FROM MICHIGAN!)

^^;;;; Thank you. OOO. SEE, MY OPHELIA IS LIKE MY HAMLET. SHE HAS THE POTENTIAL FOR CRAZY, AND ONCE SHE BEGINS PRETENDING THE POTENTIAL GETS REALISED, AND THEN SHE ACTUALLY IS CRAZY. BUT THIS OPHELIA MIGHT NOT BE CRAZY. AND SHE HAS A REALLY GOOD MOTIVE FOR DROWNING HERSELF. :D

[eremon-lass.livejournal.com]

Oh, you always make me cry in such a good way when you write Hamlet stories!

(And your Justin/Zara OTPofkillingeachother is coming forthwith; I just have to finish typing it up.)

[rainbowjehan.livejournal.com]

Care to tell me why the crack of crackness is making you cry? *dedded*

(EEEEEEEEEE. ^________^)

[eremon-lass.livejournal.com]

Because Guil and Ophelia are so cute together! And for that matter Ros and Ophelia!

(Just a warning, although I seem to do fine with Zara, I fail horribly at Justin.

[rainbowjehan.livejournal.com]

For some reason, I like pairing people with Ophelia. Even though I don't really like Ophelia that much as a character. I like trying to make myself like her?

(*glees*)

[lokogato.livejournal.com]

Nngh, guh, mmmmph!! *flails*

SO GORGEOUS NNNNNYARGH. I love your Claudius, even if he's omgebil, and your Guil, because he's so -- tight-wound and tight-lipped and bitterly capable, and Ros is such a ditz, and Ophelia gets it but doesn't get it, and Hamlet and Laertes are just elsewhere.

Aahhhh Guil is so beautiful. So beautiful.

BUT. Your toe is gone asd;lfiasdgpaoifgadkl;g??!?!/1/?!

[rainbowjehan.livejournal.com]

*FLAILS!* My Claudius is invariably a horrible, sick, evil man, and also dead sexy. I think that makes him scarier, and also explains why he manages to get everybody to do what he wants. Guil is just frustrated, and he doesn't let Ros know what's going on, and Ophelia, like Hero, just doesn't have the ability to get it, and--yes. They're just elsewhere. XD

--NO. No. Just the toenail!

[lokogato.livejournal.com]

It's the dead sexiness that throws the reader off at first! Ophelia's like "Lalala, Guil, oh, hello, Prince Claudius!" and he's like "I VIBE MY SEXY AT YOU," and the reader swoons and misses that he's an ebilebil person. And then Guil is all "... my virtue. ;___;" and the reader goes "OMG YOUR VIRTUE -- !!!11!"

... sorry, am incoherent. Wrong hour of night. >_____>;

... *breathes* I saw that line and went "OH MY GOD SOUJIN'S TOE?!/1/!?!?!?!?1?PUNCTUATIONEXTENDSFURTHER?!?!" So it's better and less painful, now? ^___^ That's good, yes?

[rainbowjehan.livejournal.com]

That's the idea! Like, King Hamlet's all mean and nasty but at least he has some morals and is good at fighting? And Prince Claudius is all, HOW SEXY AM I, NOW I SHALL MOLEST YOU, and Guil's all, NOT THE FIRST TIME, PAL, and Ophelia just cries a lot...!

OF course. ^__^

--Yes, I didn't put it well. It is much betternow, and fun and weird. And in two weeks the other one goes.

[julietveiled.livejournal.com]

...the lack of toe is seriously distracting me from the pretty creepiness that is my birthday present.

I love that you took seriously my totally wacked out ot3 and made it a thing of such profundity and prettity. Thank you, my soujiest of pansy-mice. ♥

[rainbowjehan.livejournal.com]

Well, I'll be fair. I just had the toenail completely removed. I'm getting the other one done in two weeks.

^___________^ Yayyyyy. Thank you so much, o Lady Roxana.

[little-lady-d.livejournal.com]

oooh. you have this delightful gift for run-on sentences, because sometimes they're just these exquisite, complicated things like lace, and sometimes they really do just run -- they go to all sorts of places and take you through all sorts of thoughts, and do you know what i'm saying? because clearly i don't have a gift for run-on sentences.

but there're so many lovely things in this -- the image of ophelia once wearing innocence like a white gown, until it's cast behind her and trails on like a shadow -- and guildenstern, he is his shadow, but it isn't innocence -- and oh. it's very lovely, and very strange, and very sad.

and the idea of an invented language is so charming -- and the euler diagrams were perfect, and a little sad themselves. and don't you think, anyone who's so far gone the only thing they can of is to pretend to be mad, anyone like that must be a little mad already? and -- i must stop babbling nonsense at you. but trust me, it wasn't awful. <3

[rainbowjehan.livejournal.com]

*squees quietly* --Again, I really think Ophelia has the potential for madness, the way Hamlet does. I think--well, I really do think that none of the events in the play really could drive either of them quite as mad as they do without the potential being there in the first place.

And we thought Guil would like the Euler diagrams. They're so--almost trivial.

My run-on sentences are so run-on. I always feel dreadful when I'm writing them, because they go on and on and I abuse the dashes and the semicolons but somehow they feel as though they need to keep on going--well.

Thank you so much.

[little-lady-d.livejournal.com]

right, right. and drives you into all sorts of interesting questions about what madness is, truly, and as a borderline philosopher i like that.

but they're logical and that's what he clings to and it's such a small, sad thing ... because he needs that. otherwise he'd have gone mad before hamlet or ophelia could -- isn't that sad? that his one comfort isn't that he's doing the right thing (it's that, too, and that he's trying, for rosencrantz, but that wouldn't keep him from going mad) but that he's doing it logically. you shouldn't have gotten me babbling on about guildenstern.

i know precisely how you feel, as i'm sure you've noticed my fixation on dashes and semicolons -- just know that however you feel writing them, yours are brilliant when i'm reading them. :D

you're welcome. ^_^

[gileonnen.livejournal.com]

Oh, ladylady--I told you what I thought of this, mayhap, but perhaps I ought to leave you a comment so that you might remember?

Did you know, you write Claudius here a great deal like you write Hyde? A great deal more light and gay than most writers . . . and yet still possessed of a very sinister undercurrent, the sort that made people in Jekyll-and-Hyde say that Hyde seemed inorganic. This Claudius is really a force--a force which acts very well indeed on your remaining characters.

On that note--you write a very, very believable Guil and Ophelia. Guildenstern, I told you, I especially liked--but now that I think of it, I like him in largest part because of how awkward and slow is his comfort. He knows how to deal with things logically, even impossible things; he's kept sane by his logic (it's been said above)--but even logic cannot make him less awkward and forced at comfort (can't help thinking of movie!Guil putting an arm around Ros and insisting that they were all right--that sort of awkward). And I love how everything is sort of blurry to Ophelia, but little moments stand out clear and sharp; it's a very real sort of madness, and very poignant. It's almost a Rosencrantz sort of madness, and that (unconscious?) parallelism between the two of them helps to define why Guildenstern feels toward her what he feels toward his friend. But Ophelia seems to be more retentive even if she's not necessarily more lucid, and perhaps that's why he accepts that she must be incorporated differently into the diagram, when he would never accept it for Ros--

--and this is becoming babbling, isn't it. Suffice to say, your language usage was lovely, your characters never fail to intrigue me, and you once again open up the dark places in the human psyche in a way that makes me want to peer deeper (perhaps too deep). ^___^

[rainbowjehan.livejournal.com]

--thank you. so much.