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Post by Rosalind on Dec 1, 2008 13:44:53 GMT -5
Rosalind frowned in thought. She hadn't meant it like that. She had meant it, very specifically, as a part of her personality that was not really her enjoying it, not that she herself was able to enjoy different things by means of pretending to be someone else. But as she articulated that in her head, they sounded suspiciously similar. She did not quite understand what Alex was asking of her, but she did understand herself - that if she had enjoyed it as Ganymede, it must have been her, for Ganymede was not real enough to actually enjoy anything. If Ganymede pretended enjoyment, it was Ganymede; but to really feel it must have been Rosalind.
Was it, then, just that Rosalind had enjoyed something she would have enjoyed normally? She tried to think of comparisons between the two that could show her the truth. If Ganymede chucked a girl under the chin and smiled inwardly at her blush, was it possible Rosalind had felt the same way? An incident occurred to her, when she had complimented another girl on her clothes and been spoken to shyly. Her heart raced and she was afraid for herself at this; she was not sure who that self was anymore.
She recalled something else, and wondered if this meant anything. She spoke very timidly, moreso than before. "I...I can remember, once, that when I was still young, several men came to visit my father, and brought their children, and I became fond of one of the daughters, and desired to be her friend, but..." She spoke in varying speeds, as though warding off hysteria. "It was difficult for me to speak with her. My cousin wanted us then to put on a play, and was glad of the newcomers, for she hoped for a cast in them. She tried me for the lead role, that of the maid, but I gave it up for the count's daughter. I asked Celia if I could be the man then, as I had recently grown tall." She did not seem to see Alex as she spoke, recalling this instead. "It was easier to speak to her freely in that garb. Is this...is this what you mean, your reasoning for donning men's dress?"
She recalled now her own behavior with Alex earlier. She had been very fond of her, even supposing her a him. She had felt similarly of Orlando, though, and it had given her great pleasure to pretend to be Ganymede pretending to be Rosalind. But she had not been entirely naive of Alex's identity beneath her britches. When she smiled shyly at Alex, was this the response of Ganymede to the girl she suspected, or Rosalind, feeling wooed by the boy she assumed? Or was it a mix that was not correct by nature - Ganymede to the boy-Alex, and Rosalind to the girl she spoke to now? Yet Alex said she was this way by nature, and Rosalind trusted nature as the grandest architect, before even God.
((Oho, and now the Maedchen in Uniform comparisons. I'm hopeless.))
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Post by Alex on Dec 1, 2008 14:37:41 GMT -5
((Hee! I need to see that again. It's been ages.))
Though she could not read Rosalind's thoughts--nor was she likely to full understand their import, if she could--Alex could clearly see the girl was going through some sort of crisis of self, if a necessary one. She knelt earnestly before her, not too close but somehow familiar and inviting. Because it was exciting, really, the vicarious discovery, the thought that here might be someone else like her, even just a little. She smiled gently at Rosalind's story, recognizing that, at least.
"Not exactly," she said softly. "Not entirely. I feel as though I do it to put others at their ease. When I left home, it was to escape an arranged match. Dressing this way, altering my name, was a way for me to leave that possibility behind and also a way to put women at their ease. I'm not sure I entirely meant to fool them, and I'm sorry when I do so completely that they're disappointed when they find out. But I dress this way because women feel comfortable flirting with men, and even if the woman is comfortable, society feels more comfortable watching it. I never really thought too hard about what it means for me. As a person, I mean. I don't feel much different--only freer. Perhaps I've taken on some masculine aspects. I swear more, drink more... but I don't feel that those things are foreign to me, either. Just... suppressed by my upbringing. I don't mean to say it should be that way for you, of course. Like I said, I only know myself, and my own reasons. That only really makes me an expert in me."
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Post by Rosalind on Dec 1, 2008 14:50:11 GMT -5
((It's on Youtube. That's where I got Ginie to watch it. There's also the remake on Youtube, which I have yet to watch, being lazy.))
An expert in me. It was admirable, and Rosalind wanted it for herself, but how in the world was she to manage? There were things here that were just as obvious as Alex's own womanhood but which, simply because Rosalind felt uncomfortable without the security of a facade, she was unable to admit to herself. Here, she realized, was the warring impulse. She wanted to understand herself, yet she was afraid of what she knew she would find.
She took a deep breath, closing her eyes a moment. She shook a little as she inhaled, but tried to relax and steady herself. It did not work, but at least she was conscious of the need, rather than slave to the weak impulse. "I think I might have resisted behavior I was not allowed in my father's home," she said, words running together. "If I had met the count's daughter as Ganymede, I would have felt the same urge to friendship, and acted on't more swiftly; but if, after that, I had wished to discard Ganymede, and gone on to Rosalind, I would have - " She felt as though she were freezing up, and had to push herself to continue. Why was she speaking so openly to Alex? Alex did not profess to understand her. But Alex, by virtue of how alien she was, and yet how familiar, endeared herself so much to Rosalind at that moment; she needed to speak to someone of this. What if it were true? Could she have ever admitted it to dear Celia? She was not certain, but she could hardly say it to herself. If it needed to be confessed, certainly Alex would not judge her for it. " - I would have withdrawn, wouldn't I have? From such affections?"
This was not being honest. She was making things up now. "I would have withdrawn," she said, now troubled, "but only because it is what I expect of myself. It would not have pleased me. It would have pleased me more to remain Ganymede. That is why I have remained Ganymede. I cannot let Rosalind do what she would if she did not have Ganymede as an outlet."
The realization of this cowardice shamed her, and her cheeks flamed. She turned her face away and cradled it in one cupped hand glumly. She felt hot tears sting her eyes and blinked. This was not strength at all, this was frailty - human weakness. Or female weakness. That was it, too, wasn't it? She was weak as a woman. Was that true?
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Post by Alex on Dec 1, 2008 15:39:39 GMT -5
((I try not to watch stuff on youtube if it's available otherwise, if I can help it. Which means that living where you do, I would--but living where I do, I can probably get it on DVD or at least VHS. I'm not a hideous AV snob, but I try to see stuff in as good a quality as I can manage.))
Alex watched her quietly, a frown of sympathy on her face as she wondered if she was helping at all or if this was just necessary. Should he have gone about this another way? But she didn't know what she was about in the first place; it wasn't as if she had a plan. She let Rosalind talk until the tears started, which always moved Alex, especially if there was a pretty girl behind them. She felt quite moved, no less because she didn't feel she had an answer--the answer was different for everyone, wasn't it?
She rose and went to put her arms around Rosalind, not demanding (she hoped) but offering comfort and acceptance. For whatever it was Rosalind/Ganymede decided she was. "Shh," she said. "You needn't figure it all out just now."
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Post by Rosalind on Dec 1, 2008 16:06:30 GMT -5
((It's all right. I'm the same way, but like you point out, I can't be so picky. Still, I don't think I've watched many full length films on Youtube. It doesn't stop me from looking for the ones I can't find elsewhere, though. I get upset about films that aren't to be found on Youtube.))
Rosalind was not about to rendered helpless and choking on her tears, and was not pushed into any hysteria, but they continued to slide down her cheeks. She felt that she had let herself down. It was plain by this point what was her and what wasn't, but her inability to allow this to come to herself naturally was simply awful to her. It was a betrayal of all her values, every belief she cherished. And even knowing this about herself was not quite admitting it, so she continued to feel lost.
Alex's sudden contact was supportive and wonderful, somewhat like the pleasant, advice-giving Celia, but not; if Celia were a flame, she was a pale one, and Alex was strong and warm. And Rosalind much admired her, and would have liked to be her. Rather than collapsing into a flood of tears and clinging to her as she might to a plank during a shipwreck, she embraced her tightly, closing her eyes against Alex's neck, wet eyelashes brushing the skin as she did so. She was ardently grateful to her for everything - her advice, her support, her silent, her lack of judgment.
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Post by Alex on Dec 1, 2008 17:13:22 GMT -5
Sensing this through her surprise at this turn of events, Alex merely held Rosalind and soothed her, rubbing a hand against her back. It wasn't the first time she'd abetted a girl's self-discovery, though it didn't usually occur this way. And she well remembered her own confusion.
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Post by Rosalind on Dec 2, 2008 10:34:01 GMT -5
Rosalind stayed there until it began to feel self-indulgent. Her tears dried, and she held on anyway till the point when it occurred to her that she was now only taking advantage of the nice way it felt. And this was sort of embarrassing, and besides that, it made her feel ways she was not entirely certain it was wise to think on right now - that had been a large part of her earlier unease, anyway.
So, although she did not quite want to, Rosalind pulled back slowly. "Gramercy, miss," she said softly, before she could even look her in the eye.
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Post by Alex on Dec 2, 2008 11:05:23 GMT -5
Alex drew back, smiling reassuringly. "It's all right," she said, sounding quite certain. "You'll figure it out; I promise you." She squeezed Rosalind's hand. "The question you need to ask yourself is... What do you want? And maybe, when you can tell yourself that, you'll know who you are, and not need to rely on Rosalind or Ganymede either one." She shrugged. "Or you might find you prefer them."
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Post by Rosalind on Dec 2, 2008 11:14:31 GMT -5
It all sounded very strange. Unthinkingly Rosalind held Alex's hand more tightly, interlocking their fingers as she had done with Celia when playing games or needing comfort. Alex sounded very sure of what she said, although none of it was tailored much for Rosalind. What Rosalind wanted sounded bizarre. She had never really wanted anything. It was not that she was not assertive, simply that she went along with things rather passively, whether in a demure, female manner or that of a casual young lad.
"It's odd to think that I might want something," she said. "I cannot think that I ever did before, save for another person; but I think, now, that you might have something there. Once I ceased to pine for another - " that other being Orlando; somehow, the fun had gone out of it when he had learned she was, indeed, Rosalind. Being wooed with Orlando pretending she was Rosalind had been more fun. And telling Phebe likewise that if Ganymede ever married a woman, it would be her, had also been that way.
When she had announced she would marry Orlando as Rosalind, they both had called it off. It had been comforting that Orlando had understood her reasons. He too had seem confused by something. She got the feeling he too had preferred the girl in boy's garb to the girl in girl's, and now that she had spoken to Alex, she wondered if there was not something innocent in that. " - I pined for a new other, one inside myself. Discarding all of them is best, but I don't know that it is easy. What I want?" She paused again, still thinking. "Hum. It might be I'll come to know. I don't know."
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Post by Alex on Dec 2, 2008 11:54:16 GMT -5
Alex laughed. "I didn't mean you needed an answer right away--or that you needed to give me one. Only that I think, instead of worrying about what desires belong to whom, and what society thinks of them, you should worry about yourself. You're the only one you're answerable to. Or that's how it should be, I think. But then again, I'm known to make a royal hash of my life, so perhaps you shouldn't listen to me at all."
Alex did not go in much for philosophizing about her own life or manner--she just did, and repented at leisure. But she wasn't unhappy.
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Post by Rosalind on Dec 2, 2008 12:28:38 GMT -5
"I see your meaning," said Rosalind soberly, "let me tell you mine. I see why I can't think of what I want - I am thinking less of desires and more of the whom you speak of. I don't know what Ganymede wants, but I know what he enjoys. I wonder if it is what I enjoy. And I imagine it is. But if that is so, then who am I?"
She pointed at herself without thinking. "Want's got little to do with it." She leaned back in her seat and tilted her head, letting her eyelashes flutter down. She felt sort of weary, but beneath it was her natural curiosity, pushing her to prod Alex further. "How did it come about that you...knew your nature?"
She had a specific nature in mind, and she did not think Alex could have always known. Surely not! What would her family have told her?
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Post by Alex on Dec 2, 2008 15:26:59 GMT -5
Alex listened, though it was hard for her to understand exactly what Rosalind was saying. If she, dressed as Ganymede, enjoyed something, what did it matter what name she went under? Alex knew what she wanted but possibly not in the sense Rosalind meant. She knew moment to moment, and plans and lifetimes seldom imposed themselves. But Rosalind's question seemed blunter, something Alex could answer.
She rocked back on her heels casually, and as she spoke her gaze grew far away, nostalgic without regret.
"I assume you mean the part that deviates from what society deems natural interest," she said slowly. "Guess I didn't know for a long time, though I knew something was different. I didn't want the things I was supposed to, but it's hard to tell what that means when you're young and don't have much experience of anything. A girl came to work in the kitchen--I come from some money, I suppose you wouldn't guess that now. There was something about her, or the way she looked at me, even though of course we weren't encouraged to speak much. I was fifteen. She was older. Pretty girl--not beautiful, not in the way you'd notice right off, but that builds on association. She was a good girl, too, hard worker, perfectly ordinary in every way, until I cornered her one day and in my clumsy way expressed my affection for her and she kissed me. We couldn't keep it a secret for long, stupid creatures we were, and got caught one day. I was scolded, watched like a hawk, and promised to some man I hardly knew; she was turned away. By the time I made my escape, I couldn't find her."
She seemed to gather herself and looked back at Rosalind. "My apologies. I do go on, and that wasn't exactly what you asked. But when she kissed me, when I learned that I wasn't the only one who felt this way, everything else that seemed 'off' fell into place. And maybe it's not all about that, maybe the trousers are something different, but I can't separate them. Not for myself."
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Post by Rosalind on Dec 2, 2008 16:05:56 GMT -5
Rosalind pulled up her legs and wrapping her arms around her knees she curled up like a kid and listened intently to Alex's story. The more she spoke of it, the more saddening it seemed to Rosalind. It did have the effect of making her believe that one could be as Alex described by nature, though, for in truth it seemed much like it was for anyone else, between the correct members of sexes, so to speak. She was particularly sensitive to the repetition of harsh words in Alex's speech, for although she spoke plainly, she did not seem someone inclined to speak in insults. Rosalind would have guessed that Alex was still very bitter about the matter.
"I come..." Alex's expression had seemed strange. "I am also from a family on the higher ranks of society; that is, my father was - is - a Duke," said Rosalind in a wandering voice. "But he was banished into exile, and I sent to stay with my uncle, who saw only my father in me despite my best efforts, and cast me out. I cannot imagine what shame he would have felt had that...had I revealed...such a nature." Rosalind felt that she had hidden something not only from herself out of fear of what she might think, but out of fear of being treated poorly by her uncle, as well. "I have not returned yet. I am not sure that I shall."
It was all so bewildering, like the forest of Arden could sometimes be, an overwhelming forest. "Are there many girls who are so inclined? I just...I suppose...Had I heard of such a thing, I might have applied the knowledge to myself, but you are the first I have met." She recalled Phebe. No, Phebe was not one of them... She remembered Phebe's woe and unhappiness. Rosalind had been somewhat hurt, remembered feeling as though Phebe were implying there was something repulsive in her. The day Rosalind had left she had donned her trousers again and said goodbye. Phebe had truly disliked her. Rosalind rubbed at her eyes.
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Post by Alex on Dec 2, 2008 18:06:04 GMT -5
She was still bitter, a little, though she didn't exactly recognize it as such. She wished she could find Sarah, but when she thought about it she was glad, at least, that something had come along to explain to her why she didn't fit in. She listened to Rosalind's story, with Dukes and all and it sounded very dramatic and Shakespearean--exile always sounded Shakespearean to her--and grand.
"I don't really know," she confessed. "It's not always easy to tell--but you get a sense for it. There are more than I would have guessed, I suppose. Enough, in a city like this, that I keep from getting lonely. And other girls who are perhaps not inclined but are curious enough to pretend they are." She smiled a little wryly, and peered up at Rosalind. "It's all rather a lot, isn't it? To take in."
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Post by Rosalind on Dec 2, 2008 18:12:10 GMT -5
It was a lot. Rosalind felt her head was swimming. She shook it to clear it, but really, it wasn't something she thought she could clear right away. She stood and stretched boyishly without trying to seem boyish; it was natural to her, though whether that was core-natural or just a Ganymedish habit, she wouldn't have been able to say.
"It is a terrible lot," said Rosalind, agreeing extremely, "though not such a terrible lot that I would feel saddened to draw it. There are much less pleasant things in the world than girls. Imagine it if you oft-loved thieves or scoundrels. I count myself lucky that I am drawn to fellows who make me happy." Fellows, in this case, being a very broad term. She blushed again when she looked at Alex. "I hope that there is friendship in our futures," she said softly, "and I hope moreso that it is with each other. You will let me come to you, won't you, if I..." She hesitated and bit her lip, but looked like this was very important to her. "That is, I feel I will think much on this subject soon and often, and would like to have someone I could speak to of it, and it is a matter of some gravity to me..."
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