Everyday Love: Entry 13

Entry 13, forty-six days after Silk Talons: Chapter 8

From Ginal's Journal:

Matron, give me peace, I feel as though I may murder that woman and be done with it all!  Frankly, I'm appalled that this is the famous story teller, Silver Rose, that Selah adores so much.  She is the rudest, bluntest, most ignorant and arrogant person I have ever met, and the more I'm around her, the more I'm learning to despise her and her attitudes.

I know, I promised I'd try harder to control my temper and my pride.  I don't want to be so angry and insulted, but this Silver Rose has an extraordinary way of getting under my skin in the most horrid way.  Maybe taking this free moment to write here will help me calm down.

She is still making comments about my body!  And the way she grins at me when she brings it up, Gods damn do I want to smack her!  And why is Selah just letting it go?  If this were any other person, be it random drunk in the bar, or someone from our own company, Selah would have already used both words and spear to driver her point home to not insult me so.  But she's so damned blinded by her adoration of this woman that she doesn't even hear what's being said, or if she is, she's entirely too willing to let it go.

Selah, I need to know that you're going to defend me when I need it.  You almost killed Robimont for a similar thing.  What changed?

And by the Twelve, my Selah is not butch!  This ignorant windbag of a woman sees short hair and a soldier's gait, and just assumes that Selah is somehow unfeminine?  Oh we are going to have words about this, Miss Silver Rose.

Okay, breath in, breath out.  We're alone for now, so let me try to talk to Selah about this before I pop like a champagne bottle.

Silver Rose left us alone for a little while, so I had a chance to sit down with Selah.  I was so worked up that I was starting to tremble, and I could see the worried look on Selah's face.  I just needed to explain, as calmly as I could, everything I was feeling.

Alright, I really feel insulted by not just Silver Rose's comments, but her constant glancing at me while she's talking about things.  Sometimes I think Selah forgets just how much of my life I've been treated like I'm somehow defective, and, yeah, I'm sensitive to these things.  I'm only finally becoming comfortable with my body, but I've still got a way to go before I won't feel like I'm being attacked or singled out.

Not to mention that comment about Selah, which seems to me to have been born of nothing short of ignorance.  Silver Rose sees Selah's soldier's gait, and maybe her short hair, and just assumes there's a lack of femininity?  Selah may be strong, and sometimes the more dominant of our relationship (which I'm quite okay with) but she's plenty feminine.  It's that femininity that I was initially attracted to.  I've seen so called "butch" women before, and honestly, I find them a bit too much like men.  

Not that it means I couldn't have learned to see past it.  Selah has a beautiful soul, and more than anything, it's that soul that I love.  Of course, that shapely body is a wonderfully pleasant bonus.  And by the gods, what a butt.

Forgive me, Journal, I'm getting off track.

The point is, I know if it were anyone else, Selah wold have spoken up for the both of us, but she's been so blinded by her adoration of Silver Rose.  This is when Selah finally told me something I didn't know before, about why Silver Rose and her books meant  so much.

It seems that Selah once lived through a terribly painful period, and that it was these books that offered her the only escape from that pain she could find.  I can understand that.  I used to imagine I was just a regular woman, being carried off into the sunset on a snow white chocobo by a Lady both noble and sensitive, strong and gorgeous.  

But Selah said something I wasn't sure how to respond to.  That she would escape her pain by reading a Silver Rose novel, then sit at her window and look to the brightest cluster of stars in the night sky, feeling consumed by a feeling that there was something wonderful out in the world to find, so long as she could follow those stars.

I've spent my life looking to that same cluster of stars, always feeling like someone else was watching them at the same time.  Have Selah and I been looking for each other?

Anyway, Selah and I came to a compromise here.  I will see this role playing bit through, and try very hard not to make a fuss so Selah can enjoy being part of Silver Rose's work.  For her part, Selah apologized for not speaking up sooner, and promised that should would seek a better apology from Rose when this is all over.

I'm okay with this.

I can certainly say I'm not comfortable with pretending to be a man, my bits be damned.  Then again, I'm not terribly comfortable with playing this noblewoman either, if only because I don't find anything in the character I like.  The only character I can identify with is the young woman acting as a man.  It reminds me of how I spent years trying to act like the idea of a woman that wasn't real, and certainly wasn't really me.

This entire little thing has been a grand exercise in discomfort, and I'm glad it's over.  I can admit, though, that it's brought a few relevant discoveries like the one I just mentioned.

This time, I've finally learned why Selah is so often uncomfortable with distinctly feminine clothes like skirts and dresses.  It's something she associates with the marriage she hadn't told me of.  

When Selah was younger than I am now, her family of modest standing bartered her into an arranged marriage with a knight captain's son.  She didn't want to say much more, except that it was a source of great pain, that she's glad he died in the Calamity, and that I stand as the only one she's ever loved.

And, she says, will ever love.

I always knew Selah had lived through a pain and torment that mirrored my own, and I always suspected that was why she used to hold back emotionally.  Though since our reunion after the Cancer crisis, she's been much more immediately available.

I told her what is true, that being that I always have been, and always will be willing and ready to help her shoulder her burdens as she has helped shoulder mine.  Also, she looks great in a dress, and high quality legs like hers deserve to be shown off in a nice skirt, and she doesn't have to be so haunted by the past as long as I'm here.

She smiled that genuine smile that tells me she'll think about it.  Maybe, just maybe, I'll get her in a sexy short skirt sometime soon.

I looked the roegadyn woman in the eye and told her to sit down, that there's things she needs to hear.  She looked at me with that look that says she has no idea what I'm talking about. 

First, I told her that the next time she hears the gloriously obvious sounds of people making love, that the kindest thing she could do is to leave them alone to finish their business.  Half the reason I was so on edge for that day was due to how pent up I was with no release. 

And after that were two halves of the same lesson to learn.

First off, Selah spoke up, I am not "an intersex being who presents as female."  I am woman, period.  These extra bits in my panties don't change how I feel or how I identify.  She told Silver Rose how her tone, her glances, and her words all implied that I was somehow not a woman, or not a real woman, or wholly a woman, and that I deserved an apology for that.

Selah took a moment to explain that, without too much of a sob story, my life hasn't exactly been a cake walk when people have discovered the details of my being.  It's taken me a long time to start loving myself as I am, and I should not have to be made to feel bad for being what I am ever again.

Then it was my turn, and I explained that the concepts of "butch" and "femme" that Silver Rose was carrying in her head was neither applicable to us, nor wholly accurate for life in general.

Sure, Selah has a soldier's posture and gait, keeps her hair short and shies away from skirts.  On the other end of that, though, Selah does shave her legs, enjoys a sweet red wine, and wears clothing or armor that shows off her bust and cleavage.

Then I had Silver Rose look at me, in my short skirt, long hair and more visible emotions.  Would you guess at a glance that I prefer a stout, dark beer?  Or that I'm quite at home with the Shroud's grass as my bedding and the treeline as my blanket?

The point is, people are not confined to just being one thing.  We're complicated, multi-faceted.  None of us live as either "black" or "white" but rather in varying shades of gray.  I suggested to her that, maybe, she's been writing simpler stories for younger readers for so long that she had forgotten how complicated life and people truly are.

Maybe she could stand to remember this, and try writing one of her stories for adults, for a change.

She looked at us blankly for a moment, and didn't seem able to find anything to say until after she had scribbled some notes in her notebook.  She thought what we had said to her was fascinating, and that seemed to be the closest to an apology we would get.  Some people.

Oh, and, fade to black, dear Journal...



From Selah's Journal:

“Here’s the deal,” Silver Rose explained as the Canopy’s waitress plunked mugs of ale in front of each of us. “I’m working on a novel set in pre-Calamity Coerthas, based on the legend of Adelina Dzargas. You know it, I assume?”

Ginal looked blank, but I nodded. “She took the place of her brother in a military draft, and entered the army disguised as a man. If you believe the priests, the Fury was, well, furious at the deception, and made sure she came to a bad end. But there are older versions of the story in which she rose through the ranks and became a general. I assume that’s the one you are using?”

Silver Rose shrugged. “I don’t really buy either of the traditional versions. I want to turn it into a modern love story, with emphasis on the arbitrary nature of gender roles. Here’s what I have in mind…”

The waitress had returned with three empty bowls, a tureen of cream of chanterelle soup and a loaf of bread. We served ourselves, then turned our attention back to Silver Rose’s story.

“Here’s what have in mind. Adelina enters the guard of the Liofryn Darkhold, and at first things are going well. The puritanical modesty of the Coerthans prevents her from awkward public urinal moments, for instance.” Silver Rose glanced at Ginal, who glared back. “So. Things are going well, but there is a young male guard, Daven, whom Adelina finds attractive. And, to her mortification, he seems to be attracted to Adelen, as she has named her male impersonation. Do you follow me so far?”

I nodded. Ginal continued to glare. “To make matters more complicated, Margeh Liofryn, the wife of the Darkhold’s lord, is attracted to Adelen as well. She threatens dire consequences unless Adelen becomes her lover.”

“Sounds like a bloody soap opera,” Ginal grumbled. She tore a hunk off the loaf of bread and dunked it in her soup.

Silver Rose beamed. “That’s the effect I’m aiming for. Selah can tell you that it’s one of my specialties — turning ancient legends into tales of love and intrigue that appeal to today’s young readers. The problem for me is the gender swapping, the impersonation. I, myself, am completely and uncomplicatedly female.”

Ginal snorted.

“But you, my dears — one rather butch (if you excuse the expression) Lesbian, and one delightfully intersex being who presents as female — you have experienced the whole range of perplexities of deciding who you are, and how you will portray your inner you. And so I wish to tap your experience in a series of role-plays, in which you take on the personae of Adelina / Adelen, Daven and Margeh, and play out the critical scenes between them. I’ll take notes. And of course you will be fully credited in the final work. Which I’m thinking of calling ‘The Perils of Adelina’.”

“You have a lot of nerve, lady,” said Ginal.

“I do,” Silver Rose agreed. “It’s one of my more effective qualities. Without nerve, nothing ever gets accomplished. Don’t you agree, Selah?”

“Completely,” I replied. I was still awestruck at being in the presence of my favorite author. Although I admit I was feeling a bit of a twinge on Ginal’s behalf. Still, I told myself, Ginal is an adult. She can defend herself, as she has proved on numerous occasions. And this sounded like fun. “When do we start?”

“Wait a minute,” Ginal interrupted. “I never agreed to…”

“What about this afternoon?”

“Fine with me,” I said. “Ginal?”

“Absolutely not.” She folded her arms and leaned back in her chair. “Not until I get an apology.”

“For?” Silver Rose asked.

“For your intolerably rude behavior when you burst in on Selah and me. And made remarks about my body. Which is a very beautiful body, as Selah can assure you.”

Silver Rose waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, that. I was simply startled, love. I apologize for any offense I gave. Now, do you have a private room we can use, or shall I rent one of Miounne’s?”

“You can use ours, in the Free Company house,” I offered.

Ginal sighed, and ripped off another hunk of bread.

Ginal and I were still discussing rudeness, politically incorrect gender-identity terminology and the perils of fan-girl addiction when Silver Rose arrived at our room. Her knock sounded muffled, and when I opened the door I realized it was because her arms were full of loose clothing, and she had knocked by kicking it.

“I brought some costumes,” she said, dumping the whole load on the bed. “I find dress-ups help me get into a character’s frame of mind. Let’s start with the scene where Adelina enlists, and become Adelen. Ginal, you’re Adelina. Selah, you can be the commander. There are some military uniforms in the heap. Let’s get dressed!”

Silver Rose had brought Twin Adder uniforms, which was all she could find in Gridania on short notice. I pulled on a captain’s coat and admired myself in the mirror on the door of the armoire. I was definitely a dashing figure! I turned to find Ginal looking awkward in a private’s jacket and breeches.

“I like skirts better,” she grumbled.

“I’m sure Adelina felt the same way,” said Silver Rose. “Keep in touch with that emotion. Now pull out your courage — you are doing this to save your brother — and present yourself to the commanding officer.”

“Step up, young man,” I prompted. “I see you are here to enlist. Name, please?”

“Ginal… er, Adelen Dzargas. From the house of Dzargas. Here to fulfill my military service. I guess.”

I mimed looking at a piece of paper. “It says here that the house of Dzargas has one young man of military age. That’s you, I guess. What’s your chosen weapon, lad?”

“I’m a lancer,” Ginal answered quickly. No need to role-play here. “And a damn’ good one, too.”

I frowned. “The Fury does not approve of boastfulness. Well, you are young. Go with that man there, and he’ll show you to the barracks.” I waved in a generally barracks-ward direction. Frankly, the scene felt over.

Silver Rose must have thought so too, because she set down her notebook and applauded. “A good start,” she said. “Now, let’s move on to where ‘Adelen’ meets Margeh. Selah, you’re the noblewoman. Put on a dress, please.”

Reluctantly, I pulled off the officer’s coat and lifted the fancy gown that Silver Rose had supplied. I had worn dresses like this once, in another life. And I had vowed never to wear them again. Just holding the fine fabric brought back horrible memories.

“Uh, can’t I just do it in my own clothes?”

Ginal smirked. Silver Rose frowned. “Of course not, dear. You have to get into character. Strip down and put it on. No modesty, now. You don’t have anything we haven’t seen before.”

Ginal was actively giggling as I pulled on the dress. Dammit, she knew how much I hated skirts. I decided to make things as hard as possible for her in the scene we were playing.

I smoothed down the skirt and gazed at Ginal in her soldier’s gear with my best come-hither expression. “Young man! You’re one of my husband’s guard, aren’t you? I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

“Um, I just enlisted, ma’am.” Ginal was still giggling, which totally ruined the effect.

“You’re a handsome young thing. And shy, too. I like that in a man. I need someone to carry these packages to my… bedroom. Please pick them up, and follow me.”

“Good line,” said Silver Rose approvingly. “I think I’ll use it.”

“Um, I’m not sure I should do that, ma’am,” said Ginal, shooting Silver Rose a nasty look.

“Nonsense. You are mine to command. This way, then…”

“Good work,” Silver Rose stated. “Let’s take a short break, then we’ll continue with the roles reversed. You girls have given me some excellent ideas. Thank you!”

I could see Ginal licking her lips, planning how she would lord it over me as the wicked Margeh. At least I would have no trouble as a male soldier. Except that I would be playing a woman disguised as a man, which was not entirely the same thing. And I would have to pretend that I was in no way attracted to Margeh, even if she really was Ginal.

Who knew that role-playing could be so hard?

We finally broke for dinner, and headed back to the Canopy. Silver Rose strode ahead, her naturally authoritative air enhanced by her robust Roegadyn figure. Ginal and I trailed behind.

“It’s a lot more work than I expected,” I said. I figured I owed Ginal some sort of apology for dragging her into this, but at the moment this was the best I had to offer.

Ginal frowned and gazed steadfastly at the tree-line.

“But you did a wonderful job with Margeh,” I offered. “Who knew that being a wicked noblewoman would come so naturally to you? You really seemed quite ruthless.”

“I just kept thinking what I would like to do to that woman if I managed to get her alone, with just me and a chocobo-whip.” 

“Sorry,” I said. “I thought it sounded like a fun project. Tell you what — you get to propose our next adventure, to make up for it.”

“Anything?” Ginal looked at me with a speculative expression.

“Anything within reason.”

“Oh, I have my reasons.” She grinned and hurried on before I could retract my offer.

We ordered dinner — one of Miounne’s wonderful meat-and-mushroom stews — when Silver Rose got dragged away to autograph books for a gaggle of blushing Elezen fan-girls. Ginal and I ate silently for a while. I could tell she was still fuming. I tried to break the ice by mentioning how cute she looked in her soldier’s outfit.

“Oh, that,” she said, waving away the compliment. “I really, really hate wearing trousers. But you —  you’re a knockout in a dress, lady. Why don’t I ever see you in skirts? And you really should let your hair grow out. You keep it so short! I can almost see why that woman used that awful word for you, even though it’s totally not true.”

I had been dreading this moment, although I had not expected it to come so soon. I chose my words carefully. “Kitten, there’s something I never told you. You know I have an unhappy past, but I never told you any details. When I was fifteen my parents negotiated a marriage for me. From their point of view, it was a wonderful catch — the miller’s daughter snaring the only son and heir of the local nobleman. From mine — well, I was fifteen, and I didn’t really think I had a say in it. I was prepared to be a good wife. But it turned out that my husband — let’s just say we were not suited for each other. When he died in the Calamity five years later, I felt nothing but relief that I had finally escaped. But for those five years, I dressed as a proper nobleman’s wife, in the same kind of cumbersome, expensive clothes that we were playing dress-ups in this afternoon. And I wore my hair long. Does that answer your question?”

I expected Ginal to be furious. But her lovely eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Selah — I am so sorry. I knew there was something, but I didn’t really let myself think about it.” She looked down at her stew. “So, you didn’t love him?”

“Never,” I assured her. “You are my first love, Kitten. And my only love. We belong together.”

I might have gone on to framing an actual marriage proposal then and there, except that Silver Rose bustled over and joined us. “Finish up your dinner, girls,” she said cheerfully. “We still have work to do. ‘Miles to go before we sleep,’ and all that.” She refilled her bowl from the tureen and set to with a hearty appetite.

“Just one more scene,” Silver Rose said, when we returned to our room. “But this is the hard one. And, since there are three characters, I’ll be taking the role of Margeh. Selah, you are the young soldier Daven. Ginal, you are Adelina, disguised as Adelen. This is the scene were all the secrets are revealed.”

“Oh, joy,” Ginal muttered.

“You can do it, Kitten,” I told her. Meaning, please don’t kick up a fuss now, when we are almost finished.

“Daven and Adelen, you start. Daven, this is when you confess your love for Adelen, who you think is another young man with tastes similar to your own. And Adelen, this is where you reveal you are really Adelina.”

I lounged against the wall in what I hoped was a suave, soldierly fashion. “So tell me more about yourself, Adelen,” I prompted. “Have you been a soldier long?”

“Only this afternoon,” Ginal muttered. “And I totally hate it.”

I ignored the out-of-character remark. “The reason I ask is that you seem a bit… delicate for a soldier. As if you did something very different before you came here. You are from a good family, I hear.” I moved a bit closer, and set my hand on “Adelen’s” shoulder. “Perhaps I could help you… adjust.”

“Good line,” said Silver Rose, who was sitting on the bed in her Roegadyn-sized copy of Margeh’s dress. She jotted a few words in her notebook.

“So you have guessed my secret?” Ginal said softly. Her eyes met mine. I could see she was remembering our own courtship, and the revelation at the heart of it.

“That you are like me — a man with tastes forbidden by the priests? Yes, it’s fairly obvious, if one knows where to look.” My gaze dropped to “Adelen’s” trousers, where an un-Adelina-like bulge was becoming manifest.

“You can’t have him, pervert,” said Silver Rose, making her entrance as the lascivious Margeh. “Adelen is mine! All mine!”

Ginal and I stood shoulder to shoulder against her. “Not likely,” I drawled. “He is not interested in you, woman. He’s attracted to me.”

“You’re both deranged,” said Ginal. “Margeh, you’re a bitch. I hope you rot in Hell. Daven, you’re cute, but you’re totally queer. And dumb as a stack of bricks on top of it. And I am not Adelen. I am… Adelina!” She held open her loose soldier’s coat and arched her back, making her small, pert breasts evident.

Margeh and I recoiled in gestures of melodramatic horror. “Fade to black,” said Silver Rose in her stage-direction voice. “It’s still a bit raw, but I can whip it into shape. Good work, ladies. Thank you for your time.”

“It was a pleasure,” I said.

“Whatever,” said Ginal, stripping off her soldier’s gear.

“You will both be receiving autographed copies.” Silver Rose gathered up her heap of costumes. “Farewell, darlings! It’s been real.” She waved from the door. 

“Just a minute, lady,” Ginal said. “You come back here and sit down. Now!”

Silver Rose blinked.

“We still need a proper apology from you. And there are things you need to learn, if you are ever going to write properly about people like us. Isn’t that right, Selah?”

I acknowledged that it was true — my favorite author had turned out to be remarkably obtuse when it came to matters of gender identity.

And so we explained things to her. And she said, “Fascinating!” and took some notes, and promised that this new perspective would be reflected in the finished work. She put her notebook away, and waved again from the door. And she was gone.

 I guess that’s the closest we were going to get to an actual apology.

It would have to do.

“Hmph!” said Ginal, sitting down heavily on the bed. “Next time you decide to go all fan-girl on me, love, make sure it’s for someone worthy.”

I sat down next to her. “So, Ginal — was I imagining things, or did that last scene… turn you on?”

She moved my hand to her crotch, and the answer was evident.

“For a moment there, I remembered trying to figure out how to tell you… about me. And how gentle you were when you found out. And how that led to our date in Ul’dah. And then…”

“I remember too, Kitten,” I said. I gathered her in my arms and kissed her. She lay back, and we collapsed together into the waiting bed.

“Fade to black,” she whispered as I kissed her again.