Room 502, Tuesday Midday
Dec. 23rd, 2008 07:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
withoutveronaRomeo was running late as usual when he packed to go home for Christmas. He grabbed a handful of shirts from the drawer where he kept his wedding ring, then frowned at the exposed silver circlet. He hadn't even looked at it in months, and now he picked it up, rubbing it between his thumb and a forefinger.
It slipped to the ground.
As the ring fell from his hands, suddenly he saw himself back in St. Peter's Church -- candles all around him, Juliet before him lying still on the bier.
The difference was, as he pulled out his vial of poison and went to touch her face, she moved her eyes fluttered open and she grasped his hand, making him drop the poison harmlessly on the ground.
"...Juliet?" He could not understand how she was not dead.
"My Romeo," she called him, a bit smug, as she sat up and started the slow business of rising from her grave. "I will tell you all, but now, hurry, back to Mantua."
And by the grace of God, he hurried. They hurried and escaped the police sirens, the noise and lights of Verona, to build a new life where Montague and Capulet scarcely mattered.
Life in Mantua was not easy. Neither of them had thought much about what lives without their families would be like. Eventually, Romeo found work at a construction site and Juliet in a diner, and between that and money forwarded to them by friends, they eked things out. They fought bitterly as they got to know each other, but their passion and pure love for each other often carried them through even the harshest times.
One day, a little over a year after they had wed, their first daughter (Seraphina -- Romeo recognized her) came into the world, followed at short, irregular intervals by brothers and sisters until there were five children in all. There was never quite enough money, or time, and both Romeo and Juliet lost their looks and their spoiled manners in the rough business of staying alive. And if he didn't write sonnets anymore, and her hair was never again so lovely as it had been at 14, people have lost more in the course of growing up.
It took a decade and more, but their parents forgave them. Things got easier, then, though Romeo's pride kept them from accepting help as much as they could have. The life they had was one of generic macaroni and cheese and a 10-year-old van that didn't start on cold mornings, but it was their life, and they still had each other.
Most days, that was all that mattered.
The ring rolled across the floor, thudding to a stop next to Romeo's boot. He picked it up again and promptly stashed it back in the drawer, not sure what to make of such a reverie.
It was best, perhaps, not to tell Yurika.
[OOC: IAWL! Up late because I suck, but he's around for a bit if you want to grab him before he heads off.]
It slipped to the ground.
As the ring fell from his hands, suddenly he saw himself back in St. Peter's Church -- candles all around him, Juliet before him lying still on the bier.
The difference was, as he pulled out his vial of poison and went to touch her face, she moved her eyes fluttered open and she grasped his hand, making him drop the poison harmlessly on the ground.
"...Juliet?" He could not understand how she was not dead.
"My Romeo," she called him, a bit smug, as she sat up and started the slow business of rising from her grave. "I will tell you all, but now, hurry, back to Mantua."
And by the grace of God, he hurried. They hurried and escaped the police sirens, the noise and lights of Verona, to build a new life where Montague and Capulet scarcely mattered.
Life in Mantua was not easy. Neither of them had thought much about what lives without their families would be like. Eventually, Romeo found work at a construction site and Juliet in a diner, and between that and money forwarded to them by friends, they eked things out. They fought bitterly as they got to know each other, but their passion and pure love for each other often carried them through even the harshest times.
One day, a little over a year after they had wed, their first daughter (Seraphina -- Romeo recognized her) came into the world, followed at short, irregular intervals by brothers and sisters until there were five children in all. There was never quite enough money, or time, and both Romeo and Juliet lost their looks and their spoiled manners in the rough business of staying alive. And if he didn't write sonnets anymore, and her hair was never again so lovely as it had been at 14, people have lost more in the course of growing up.
It took a decade and more, but their parents forgave them. Things got easier, then, though Romeo's pride kept them from accepting help as much as they could have. The life they had was one of generic macaroni and cheese and a 10-year-old van that didn't start on cold mornings, but it was their life, and they still had each other.
Most days, that was all that mattered.
The ring rolled across the floor, thudding to a stop next to Romeo's boot. He picked it up again and promptly stashed it back in the drawer, not sure what to make of such a reverie.
It was best, perhaps, not to tell Yurika.
[OOC: IAWL! Up late because I suck, but he's around for a bit if you want to grab him before he heads off.]
