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glorivious · 2 years ago

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romola garai, cis woman, she/her, 40 — dear all nations, GRAINNE Ó CLEIRIGH has crossed the city borders to edinburgh to the sound of AS GOOD A REASON by PARIS PALOMA. the HIGH QUEEN of IRELAND is known to be IN FAVOR OF making peace. SHE reminds me of A FIELD FULL OF WILD HEATHER & THE SCRATCH OF A LONE QUILL IN A CANDLE LIT ROOM however did you know that SHE'S THE AUTHOR OF SEVERAL POPULAR BUT ANONYMOUS POEMS THAT ARE INCREDIBLY BAWDY?

Trigger warnings: mentions of death, child death, & infertility.

name: gráinne ó cleirigh title: high queen of ireland age: 40 gender: cis woman sexuality: heterosexual languages spoken: old irish and middle irish, english, cymraeg (not fluent), conversationally proficient in the other goidelic languages (manx & scottish), latin, & french (not fluent.)

In another life, you'd have lived a life full of a different kind of meaning. You'd have liked it, you think. A life wedded to no mortal man. In that other life, you'd have had ink-stained hands and instead of commissioning manuscripts, you'd have been the one doing the work of scribing or illustrating them, you'd have been the one commissioned. Yes, you would have liked that life. A life surrounded by parchment and ink and only a select group of people.

As it is in this life, however, after completing your education at the hands of your aunt you leave the walls of the abbey and go instead to the walls of your father and then from there to the walls of your future husband. It's not a marriage of love, it's a marriage of alliance and really the only reason you're chosen for it is the fact that the elder sister of yours who'd originally been chosen for this fate is now dead. Wasted away from a spring caught sickness and dead by the time summer had even fully come. When you don't bother to weep for a girl you barely even knew, that is when your father looks at you, and for the first ever time you see something like approval coming from him.

Wilting flowers don't become queen. Fragility would only see you dead. Years pass by, some slow and some so fast that it seemed to have happened in the space of a blink, and with each one passed you change a little more. Eventually, you become comfortable with being what you are; a thorn, a thistle, a flower not for presentation but for use.

Any chance for another life is gone, and running your fingertips over the beautifully drawn illustrations in one of your favourite tales you think that you'd spit in the eye of anybody who tried to make you switch this life for another anyway. It is not an easy life, or a quiet one but that makes it all the more worthwhile. A victory won with sweat, blood and tears is sometimes all the sweeter for the suffering it took to get there. You will savour every moment that you can of this life and will not go gently into any good night.

FACTS

Gráinne's mother was her father's third wife, and Gráinne is the only surviving child from the marriage. She has thirteen siblings, three of which are still alive.

Her mother's aunt (and Gráinne's great-aunt) raised Gráinne. They lived near an abbey that had a great reputation for knowledge and learning. Gráinne was educated alongside some of the girls raised there. Gráinne herself would probably be described as an atheist in the modern age.

Gráinne was likely in her early twenties the first time she wrote a poem. At some point in the years since her poems have somehow become popular in Ireland. Due to the way authorship was in this age, it's been easy for her to keep anonymous. Not all of her work is filthy but a good amount is.

Gráinne loves horse riding.

She's literally always armed with at least one weapon.

Well known for being no-nonsense and being unwilling to suffer fools.

Has never had any biological children and is perfectly fine with that. There's no angst there. It is what it is. Which is really the mantra by which she lives her life. She's not big on regrets, especially regrets that make it hard to live one's life. Also, a legacy and family are ultimately far more than just that of blood.

#nomad.intro

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