It had been a long time since Gabrielle had been to the theater. She'd forgotten what a wonderful experience it could be; to be transported to another time and place, to watch all the glory and tragedy of life played out on a stage by people who clearly loved their work. It had seemed all the more amazing this time because of her companion. Her hand had stayed in George's throughout the action of Henry V, wrapped tightly as she absorbed the rich language and wonderful acting that the Shanachie offered to the highest standard. Even now, as they stepped out amid the chattering crowd, her face was alight with the exhilaration of the piece. "That was ....truly wonderful," she enthused, turning to George with a bright smile. "Thank you so much for bringing me."
"It was, wasn't it?" he asked, smiling broadly back at her, as they exited the Shanachie hand in hand, just like any other couple out on a date for the evening. "Are you sure you don't want to go backstage and say hello to your cousin while we're here?" he asked, though he was secretly hoping she'd leave that for another time. If things kept going the way they were going, there would be plenty of time to meet her family.
"I'm sure," she assured him warmly. "Knowing Jon, he's already in the car on the way home, anyway. He's very quick to get back to his family, even when he's working." She wrapped her hands about George's arm as they stepped out into the cool spring night, breathing in the fresher air. "I, um ....Would you like to get a cup of coffee, or something?" she asked hesitantly, reluctant for the night to end here.
"Smart man," he remarked, regarding her cousin. He was only too happy to let her take his arm as they stepped out into the cool of the evening, Rhy'Din's twin moons shining brightly. "Coffee, not tea?" he teased, blue eyes twinkling. It was no big secret how fond he was of tea, but he wasn't opposed to the occasional cup of coffee. "I'm curious what you thought of King Harry. Of course, Shakespeare was English, so he may have been a little biased in his portrayal."
"I don't know much about Shakespeare," she admitted, not rising to the bait about tea versus coffee, though her own eyes sparkled at those words. "Or about English history. He seemed ....Well, his motive for war seemed selfish, but there was something inherently heroic about the character. The fact that he would have stood alone, rather than have even one man with doubts next to him ....it's a lovely thought, but utterly stupid in context." She laughed a little as she relayed this analysis.
"Ah, but would he?" George disagreed. "Where are we going?" he asked, a little distractedly, allowing her to lead the way. He wasn't that familiar with this area or where the closest coffee shop might be located. "Would he have actually stood alone, do you think, or was he only trying to inspire his men?" he asked, returning to the topic at hand.
"If he were trying to inspire them, why only speak to the nobles?" she asked, long rusty logical thoughts running through her mind. "Why hide his face from the common men and pick a fight with the first one who didn't say Harry was the greatest king alive" He'd already insisted that he refused to be ransomed; it stands to reason that he would rather die than be defeated, and the only way to achieve that absolutely would be to stand alone, surely?" She glanced about thoughtfully. "I think there's a little bistro this way that serves drinks."
George shrugged, unsure if he could find the right words to explain or if she would be able to understand. "Ego' Have you ever seen Henry IV" I think to really appreciate Henry V, you need to start with Henry IV. There's a good version on film I saw a while back, if you're interested. But isn't that the way with most heroes, Gabrielle" They would rather die than give up. That's what makes them heroes," he reasoned, allowing her to lead him in the direction of the bistro.
"No, I've never even heard of it," she smiled, drawing him down from the Shanachie's landscaped gardens and onto the sidewalk. "I always thought that a hero was defined by the fact that they're not in it for the glory. They want to help, in some way. But if Henry is a hero, then that skews my definition somewhat, doesn't it?"
"Henry went up against an army that was bigger than his, like David and Goliath, and he won against all the odds. In the play, Henry thinks he's doing the right thing. He believes he's doing what?s right not only for England, but for France. He had lofty goals and ambitions. The real tragedy is that he never lived to see his dreams fulfilled."
"Was he real, then?" Gabi asked, her interest piqued further as they paused outside the little bistro she had mentioned. It was quiet inside, plenty of places to sit without drawing attention or being disturbed. "Surely it's all made up. It can't possibly have really happened like that, can it?"
"Yes, of course, he was real!" George replied, looking aghast at her, before remembering that she was a native of Rhy'Din and didn't share his English upbringing. "I'm sure Shakespeare took some artistic license, but the Battle of Agincourt really happened, very much like it was portrayed in the play." What was seen of the battle, anyway. It was more inferred than anything else. "Many of Shakespeare's plays were based on historical figures, some Roman, some English. Of course, they are works of fiction, dramatized and embellished, but I suppose that's what makes them interesting."
"He killed all those unarmed prisoners, just because he thought he might not have won?" It was Gabi's turn to look aghast as she lead the way into the bistro, offering a shy smile to the server who indicated they should take a seat wherever they liked. "Your England's history sounds very bloody, George."
"No, Gabrielle," he said, stopping before they found their seats and turning to face her, needing her to understand. "It was not because of that. At least, that is not how I understand it." He sighed, realizing this subject might be a little too deep and he might be a little too passionate about it again. It seemed they were doomed to agree to disagree yet again. "Earth has a bloody history, Gabrielle," he said, reaching for her hand so that they could make their way to a quiet table.
"So do many worlds," she told him gently, letting him draw her to a quiet table. "I never learned much history in school, but I would assume even Rhy'Din has its share of blood." Setting her clutch on the table, she undid her coat, moving to shrug it from her shoulders before she sat down.
He seemed distracted a moment by thoughts that had very little to do with the play, thoughts of the war he'd been part of, a war that still haunted his dreams. He pulled himself out of those thoughts long enough to help her with her coat and pull out her chair, remembering proper behavior before claiming a chair for himself.
"Thank you." Easing down onto the chair he drew out for her, Gabi waited until he was sat beside her before leaning across to kiss his cheek softly, sweeping her thumb affectionately over whatever lipstick mark she might have left behind her. "I don't think tonight is the time for dark thoughts," she said gently. "Who was the person Pistol was talking about, toward the beginning" John Falstaff?"
"It was, wasn't it?" he asked, smiling broadly back at her, as they exited the Shanachie hand in hand, just like any other couple out on a date for the evening. "Are you sure you don't want to go backstage and say hello to your cousin while we're here?" he asked, though he was secretly hoping she'd leave that for another time. If things kept going the way they were going, there would be plenty of time to meet her family.
"I'm sure," she assured him warmly. "Knowing Jon, he's already in the car on the way home, anyway. He's very quick to get back to his family, even when he's working." She wrapped her hands about George's arm as they stepped out into the cool spring night, breathing in the fresher air. "I, um ....Would you like to get a cup of coffee, or something?" she asked hesitantly, reluctant for the night to end here.
"Smart man," he remarked, regarding her cousin. He was only too happy to let her take his arm as they stepped out into the cool of the evening, Rhy'Din's twin moons shining brightly. "Coffee, not tea?" he teased, blue eyes twinkling. It was no big secret how fond he was of tea, but he wasn't opposed to the occasional cup of coffee. "I'm curious what you thought of King Harry. Of course, Shakespeare was English, so he may have been a little biased in his portrayal."
"I don't know much about Shakespeare," she admitted, not rising to the bait about tea versus coffee, though her own eyes sparkled at those words. "Or about English history. He seemed ....Well, his motive for war seemed selfish, but there was something inherently heroic about the character. The fact that he would have stood alone, rather than have even one man with doubts next to him ....it's a lovely thought, but utterly stupid in context." She laughed a little as she relayed this analysis.
"Ah, but would he?" George disagreed. "Where are we going?" he asked, a little distractedly, allowing her to lead the way. He wasn't that familiar with this area or where the closest coffee shop might be located. "Would he have actually stood alone, do you think, or was he only trying to inspire his men?" he asked, returning to the topic at hand.
"If he were trying to inspire them, why only speak to the nobles?" she asked, long rusty logical thoughts running through her mind. "Why hide his face from the common men and pick a fight with the first one who didn't say Harry was the greatest king alive" He'd already insisted that he refused to be ransomed; it stands to reason that he would rather die than be defeated, and the only way to achieve that absolutely would be to stand alone, surely?" She glanced about thoughtfully. "I think there's a little bistro this way that serves drinks."
George shrugged, unsure if he could find the right words to explain or if she would be able to understand. "Ego' Have you ever seen Henry IV" I think to really appreciate Henry V, you need to start with Henry IV. There's a good version on film I saw a while back, if you're interested. But isn't that the way with most heroes, Gabrielle" They would rather die than give up. That's what makes them heroes," he reasoned, allowing her to lead him in the direction of the bistro.
"No, I've never even heard of it," she smiled, drawing him down from the Shanachie's landscaped gardens and onto the sidewalk. "I always thought that a hero was defined by the fact that they're not in it for the glory. They want to help, in some way. But if Henry is a hero, then that skews my definition somewhat, doesn't it?"
"Henry went up against an army that was bigger than his, like David and Goliath, and he won against all the odds. In the play, Henry thinks he's doing the right thing. He believes he's doing what?s right not only for England, but for France. He had lofty goals and ambitions. The real tragedy is that he never lived to see his dreams fulfilled."
"Was he real, then?" Gabi asked, her interest piqued further as they paused outside the little bistro she had mentioned. It was quiet inside, plenty of places to sit without drawing attention or being disturbed. "Surely it's all made up. It can't possibly have really happened like that, can it?"
"Yes, of course, he was real!" George replied, looking aghast at her, before remembering that she was a native of Rhy'Din and didn't share his English upbringing. "I'm sure Shakespeare took some artistic license, but the Battle of Agincourt really happened, very much like it was portrayed in the play." What was seen of the battle, anyway. It was more inferred than anything else. "Many of Shakespeare's plays were based on historical figures, some Roman, some English. Of course, they are works of fiction, dramatized and embellished, but I suppose that's what makes them interesting."
"He killed all those unarmed prisoners, just because he thought he might not have won?" It was Gabi's turn to look aghast as she lead the way into the bistro, offering a shy smile to the server who indicated they should take a seat wherever they liked. "Your England's history sounds very bloody, George."
"No, Gabrielle," he said, stopping before they found their seats and turning to face her, needing her to understand. "It was not because of that. At least, that is not how I understand it." He sighed, realizing this subject might be a little too deep and he might be a little too passionate about it again. It seemed they were doomed to agree to disagree yet again. "Earth has a bloody history, Gabrielle," he said, reaching for her hand so that they could make their way to a quiet table.
"So do many worlds," she told him gently, letting him draw her to a quiet table. "I never learned much history in school, but I would assume even Rhy'Din has its share of blood." Setting her clutch on the table, she undid her coat, moving to shrug it from her shoulders before she sat down.
He seemed distracted a moment by thoughts that had very little to do with the play, thoughts of the war he'd been part of, a war that still haunted his dreams. He pulled himself out of those thoughts long enough to help her with her coat and pull out her chair, remembering proper behavior before claiming a chair for himself.
"Thank you." Easing down onto the chair he drew out for her, Gabi waited until he was sat beside her before leaning across to kiss his cheek softly, sweeping her thumb affectionately over whatever lipstick mark she might have left behind her. "I don't think tonight is the time for dark thoughts," she said gently. "Who was the person Pistol was talking about, toward the beginning" John Falstaff?"