Adelaide Kane as MARY STUART REIGN (2013 — 2017)
I be like ''lord'' ''god'' ''jesus christ'' and the mfs dont even mean anything to me
Josef Sudek / Mala Strana Cemetery, Prague / 1940.
The Times, Shreveport, Louisiana, November 30, 1913
...she sits alone at her table, shuffling her tarot deck compulsively.
Erin Morgenstern, from 'The Night Circus'
Wrath: One day you’ll call me Death. For now Wrath will do.
Emilia: Wrath will do what
god if there was a book of forbidden spells I wouldn’t even hesitate
I’m not afraid of you anymore. Because I’m holding the axe.
AWAKENING: After a near-fatal accident, the sender awakens to the receiver by them.
the room was quiet, save for the steady, mechanical rhythm of the monitor and the faint breeze stirring the curtain by the open window. afternoon light pooled along the edge of the floor, soft and golden, but it barely touched her. emilia sat beside the bed, still as stone. one leg crossed neatly over the other, fingers laced in her lap. she hadn't moved in over an hour. she didn’t have to. she was waiting — and she hated waiting when it came to people she cared about.
the moment brandon stirred, she knew. before the monitor jumped, before his breath shifted — she felt it. the subtle change in the air between them, as though his body had finally remembered it had something left to fight for. his eyes blinked open slowly, light green, unfocused at first, then sharpening — and then they found her. she didn’t say anything right away. just met his gaze, ˢᵗᵉᵃᵈʸ and ᵘⁿʷᵃᵛᵉʳᶦⁿᵍ, letting the silence speak first. then, quietly, ❝ about time. ❞ not cold. not cutting. it was almost a joke — the kind that carried the weight of sleepless nights and quiet prayers she’d never admit to. her tone stayed level, but there was something just beneath it — that tired kind of relief you only feel when someone nearly slips away. she leaned forward, elbows on her knees, and let her eyes trace over him — the bruises, the bandages, the sharp contrast of his skin against the pale hospital linens. ❝ you almost didn’t make it, bran. ❞ his name, soft and familiar, wrapped in the kind of closeness she rarely allowed herself to show. it slipped past her defenses before she could second-guess it. she looked at him then — really looked — and let him see the sharp concern threaded through her quiet composure. she wasn’t here out of obligation. she was here because he mattered. ❝ they’ll say it was luck. that you’re some kind of miracle. ❞ a pause, just long enough for the words to land. ❝ but we both know better. ❞ her voice dropped, lower now, more honest than she usually allowed it to be. ❝ you’re still here because you don’t give up. ❞ another breath passed. she leaned back, just slightly, the distance between them still small. familiar. ❝ next time you try to die on me — ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ. ❞ the corner of her mouth lifted — not quite a smile, but something close. the kind of expression only someone who knew her well would recognize as affection. ❝ i don’t like the way the world feels without you in it. ❞ she timidly reached for his hand, leaned in and just sat there beside him, solid and still — a constant in a world that had tried to take him. and for now, that was enough.