[ She could absolutely tell Crowley that Nephilims like her live in constant pain -- a dull pain that aches in their joints and the hunger that they possess is unbearable. She decides against it, keeping to herself and reminding herself while it might feel odd and she will feel absolutely vulnerable, Gwenhwyfar keeps thinking of her home, obligations, and, most of all, Arthur.
She couldn't be selfish or greedy, not as a queen. She was supposed to think of her king and her people, all of that mattered more than her extreme dislike of change. And as much as she would like to see the ritual, it still seems like she's betraying the only father figure she's known, the man that raised her and who would berate her for this.
She flinches as soon as she hears his voice, looking back to him, contemplating where to put it properly. ]
Uh, there is a certain finger to wear it, right? I can't wear it where my marriage ring is supposed to go.
[ She tries to remember, knowing that placing a ring on the wrong finger and returning home is disastrous. After a moment of wracking her brain, trying to remember, she chooses her right hand, her non-dominant, choosing her index finger, slipping it on without much thought so that she could internalize over appearing disloyal to her betrothed, later.
But it hits her, or rather, her body feels... off. Heavier. Her cheeks feel rosy, even holding a small hint of color as if it was Gwenhwyfar had mead. It's odd, and no surprise, Gwenhwyfar is not too thrilled about it. Everything feels dull and the colors around the room even look duller. Gone are the pleasant smells of her previous meal, and left with something bland.
It would take time to adjust to. ]
I feel like a rock in the bottom of a lake. [ That's the best way to describe it, as she sticks a foot out and shakes it. ]
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[ She could absolutely tell Crowley that Nephilims like her live in constant pain -- a dull pain that aches in their joints and the hunger that they possess is unbearable. She decides against it, keeping to herself and reminding herself while it might feel odd and she will feel absolutely vulnerable, Gwenhwyfar keeps thinking of her home, obligations, and, most of all, Arthur.
She couldn't be selfish or greedy, not as a queen. She was supposed to think of her king and her people, all of that mattered more than her extreme dislike of change. And as much as she would like to see the ritual, it still seems like she's betraying the only father figure she's known, the man that raised her and who would berate her for this.
She flinches as soon as she hears his voice, looking back to him, contemplating where to put it properly. ]
Uh, there is a certain finger to wear it, right? I can't wear it where my marriage ring is supposed to go.
[ She tries to remember, knowing that placing a ring on the wrong finger and returning home is disastrous. After a moment of wracking her brain, trying to remember, she chooses her right hand, her non-dominant, choosing her index finger, slipping it on without much thought so that she could internalize over appearing disloyal to her betrothed, later.
But it hits her, or rather, her body feels... off. Heavier. Her cheeks feel rosy, even holding a small hint of color as if it was Gwenhwyfar had mead. It's odd, and no surprise, Gwenhwyfar is not too thrilled about it. Everything feels dull and the colors around the room even look duller. Gone are the pleasant smells of her previous meal, and left with something bland.
It would take time to adjust to. ]
I feel like a rock in the bottom of a lake. [ That's the best way to describe it, as she sticks a foot out and shakes it. ]