A Rose By Any Other Word|(Hamlet) INACTIVE

[prodigiousbirth]

Juliet bit her lip and gazed out the window from the backseat of the Rolls Royce. It was a beautiful day in the city - temperature in the mid-70s, and not a cloud visible in the bright blue sky. She was dressed in a blue floral-print dress, her white garments having been pushed to the back of her closet through her mother's insistence in the wake of the Labor Day holiday. Her dark brown tresses were full and wavy, cascading over her shoulders naturally. She wore very little makeup. A pair of black heels adorned her feet, and she wore a black knit cap and pearl earrings. A bouquet of calla lilies lay neatly across her lap. She sighed and thought about what the occasion meant. Once a year (as it was all she could bear), she trekked to Brooklyn to visit the grave of her former nurse, Luisa.

After what seemed like years, her driver stopped, and Juliet snapped out of her reverie.

"Mademoiselle Capulet, we 'ave arrived," he announced gently in his thick French accent, holding her door open and bowing slightly.

She smiled and nodded to him. "Merci, Émile." She took his hand and exited the vehicle, grasping the flowers with her free hand.

"I will be waiting here for you. Take your time."

She smiled warmly at him again and nodded once. "I won't be long." And with that she made her way toward her destination - a small headstone at the northern end of Greenwood Cemetery, quite separated from any others. As she walked, she was too distracted to notice the leaves had begun to change colors already.

She paused and looked down at the headstone. Her brow furrowed and she tilted her head slightly, unable to make out the words on the headstone due to the weeds that had grown over it a bit. She brushed a strand of hair from her face and knelt down, placing the lillies on the ground and pulling the weeds away hastily.

"Ouch...damn it," she breathed, having cut herself on a thorny plant she hadn't anticipated. She brought her cut index finger to her mouth and sucked on it to keep the blood flowing cleanly. Sighing, she leaned back and examined the now-visible headstone text:

LUISA BIANCHI
LOVING DAUGHTER, SISTER, AND NURSE
SEPT. 16, 1945 - JUNE 4, 2006
Parting is such sweet sorrow.

She shook her finger - which had barely bled, thanks to years of violin - and exhaled. She picked up the bouquet again and lay it gently just to the right of the meager headstone.

"Happy birthday, Lulu. I miss you more and more every day." She sat in silence as the minutes passed, a soft breeze previewing the beginning of fall rustling her skirt. A single tear streamed from her eye, but she did not brush it away.

[hamlet]

(OOC- lets get ready for some Shakespearean crossover goodness )

Harry really needed to stop coming here. It was going to drive him crazy.

Yet more and more each day, he started to think that it was too late, he already was crazy.

He still came back to this cemetery, the dream still fresh in his mind as if it happened yesterday. His father telling him that he was murdered and nothing else. Not too long ago he came to this place absolutely positively drunk, a complete wreck -- yes, a great way to honor a dead father.

Harry wasn't exactly sure why he kept coming back. Maybe it was to have solid proof that his dreams were just that...dreams. Nothing more. His father was rested, soundly silent, soundly asleep.

As he stared intently at the grave site, a mini tower of a cross, about 5 feet tall, he knew in his heart he couldn't believe that. His uncle would be the one to betray Hamlet...but Harry simply had no proof. No rational, logical, sane reason that Claudius had anything to do with Hamlet's death.

So all he could do was mourn.

He stood there in front of the grave, again expecting his father's spirit to give him some kind of clarification... any sign. But there was nothing but the sound of another presence in the cemetery. He heard someone across the way whisper something briefly. For a second, he'd convinced himself it was his father's spirit, and quickly reprimanded himself for being so irrational. He gazed at the woman briefly, recognizing her right away. Juliet Capulet...the woman who's party he went to a while back with Ophelia. He never got the chance to meet her.

There was some kind of sick irony that seemed to befall on Harry -- that he would keep meeting people in this cemetery.

He took one last glance at his fathers grave before walking over to her, stopping a couple of feet away out of respect. Why was he even going to talk with her? Perhaps some part of Harry needed some comfort too. Certainly his own family didn't provide that for him.

He stood for a while, waiting for a good moment to interrupt the silence, before finally softly saying, "Hey," He took a few steps forward. "Sorry to interrupt, its just that I...I recognize you from the portraits at the Capulet penthouse. I was at the big Capulet ball in April." It was then that it dawned on him that striking up small talk while someone was paying respects wasn't the brightest idea in the world. Maybe he really had gone absolutely crazy.

"Sorry, I just..." He grey eyes gazed at the surroundings a bit. A stretch limo was perched at the cemetery entrance. "I didn't know you had lost someone."

[prodigiousbirth]

[OOC - :-D Yay! I have actually never read Hamlet so I hope I don't screw it up too badly. :x I need to get on that. Also, I don't remember where, but I know to fix the old Juliet vs. new Juliet issue I just said Juliet was away during the ball. I checked and it took place at the beginning of April, so that works out - Juliet was in London studying abroad until April, so we can always just say she came back to the states at the end of April or something. I am going to assume, for purposes of this thread, Hamlet said "I recognize you from your portraits at the Capulet penthouse, I attended the ball there last April", or something along those lines. Hope that's OK - if not, feel free to edit. LONG OOC COMMENT IS LONG!]

Juliet continued to dissect her own thoughts, not sure what she was hoping to accomplish by accompanying the headstone. She knew no matter how many flowers or how many hours she brought to this cemetery, she would never have the companionship she so craved from her nurse back again. Sure, she'd had the opportunity to make friends, and had her fair share of approaches from men - including older men, who worked alongside her father. She shuddered at the thought and closed her eyes.

Maybe it was time she opened her world up a bit. It had been over four years since Luisa's death, and Juliet hadn't met a single individual she could have called a friend. She wasn't even sure how to express her true emotions to anyone anymore, aside from herself. Her mother and father were hopeless cases, concerned first and foremost with getting ahead in their political and social calendars, respectively. But then again, Juliet was a big girl. She exhaled, wishing deeply that she could just run away, back to Europe - and this time, actually attempt to make something of her situation instead of blending into the background like always.

A sudden crackle of newly fallen leaves under a patent leather shoe brought her back from her inner monologue for the second time that day, and along with it came a soothing voice she didn't recognize, but felt herself drawn to immediately. She jerked her head around much more quickly than she'd intended, in time to hear the second part of his greeting.

"Sorry, I just..." The stranger paused, the sunlight bringing out the lighter shades in his otherwise dark mane of hair. "I didn't know you had lost someone."

Juliet wasn't sure how to respond, except to rise as gracefully as she could manage under the stranger's gaze and attempt to compose herself. She brushed her hair from her face and wiped the teardrop away as nonchalantly as she deemed possible, smoothing out the folds of her dress.

"I...Yes, hello. I'm Juliet - the Capulets are my parents," she replied. "I'm so sorry, I..." she exhaled deeply. "I didn't know anyone else was here." She raised her head and looked straight into his eyes, unable to continue her usual slightly-to-the-side or downward gaze.

[hamlet]

Harry knew that he had unintentionally spooked her and thought that he probably should just leave while he could. Then again, both of them were the only two people in the cemetery, save for the limo perched by the entrance. If something in his gut made Harry want to talk to someone, to vent, or whatever...she was the only person around. There was a soft breeze that passed through the cemetery as Juliet stood and Harry quickly gazed around, slightly paranoid. What did he think he would see? A ghost?

He returned his gaze to Juliet, realizing then that if he wanted to walk away, he just missed his chance. Juliet had a delicate look to her, he realized, and it reminded him a lot of Ophelia. And like some sort of sick joke, the thought of Ophelia seemed to add to his sorrows. The thought of the fact that he will inevitably break her heart (his terrible sense of fate told him that the relationship will not last, not with all his planning and scheming) . He loved her deeply. There was simply no end to his melancholy.

"I...Yes, hello. I'm Juliet - the Capulets are my parents. I'm so sorry, I...I didn't know anyone else was here."

He dug his hands in the front pockets of his pants and shrugged. "Yeah. I have this really...bad habit of sneaking up on people. " He grinned weakly with some humor. "Doesn't make for the greatest first impression, admittedly." A pause. "Harry Chandler, from Hamlet Enterprises," He introduced, reaching out his hand to shake. "I saw you across the way and I figured since I've been in your house I might as well introduce my self. Common courtesy, right? Though sneaking up on you and knowing where you live probably doesn't make this meeting any less creepy."

He shrugged again. "Anyway, nice to meet you." He glanced over at the grave and read the name on it and inscription. "Parting is such sweet sorrow." Truer words have never been written.

[prodigiousbirth]

Juliet's eyes opened wide at the mention of Hamlet Enterprises. She had heard the name before, but wasn't sure where. Thrown around the penthouse, most likely, but she couldn't be certain of the context. Her father and his associates were always discussing business and politics - two things that held very little interest to her (the only thing she and her mother had in common, probably) - and she was sure she had at least heard "Hamlet" before.

A smile tugged at the corner of Juliet's mouth at his joke, and she looked down quickly, and up again. She extended her hand and grasped his gently while doing her best to meet his gaze - which, admittedly, was quite entrancing to the young woman. They exuded a kind of warmth she didn't experience from others very often, given her usual home surroundings. But they were mixed with something else, too - sorrow, maybe? She couldn't resist the curiosity they extracted from her.

"It's nice to meet you, Harry," she responded softly. "And...not creepy at all, really - I have seen much creepier." She smiled fully as they finished shaking hands and ran her fingertipis through her hair absentmindedly. She couldn't help noticing that he seemed a little distracted - even for someone she'd just met. She tilted her head slightly, her gaze following his down to Luisa's headstone.

"Oh...yes, Luisa was my, um..." Nurse? That didn't seem like the right word at all. In Italy, it was common slang, but in the states she didn't hear it very often unless it referred to the career in healthcare. But "nanny" or "caregiver" didn't really seem to fit either, as they had a "servant" sort of connotation - they certainly didn't lend themselves to what she really meant to Juliet, or even came close to explaining how she had impacted her life. She bit her lip and though for a second.

"Luisa was a close friend of mine, and I loved her very much," she managed in a quiet, albeit confident, voice. She remembered suddenly that she had been crying before and panicked internally, wondering if Harry had noticed - if he had, she was thankful for his decency of pretending he hadn't. She hated sharing her emotions that way, especially with people she didn't know.

"What about you?" she asked, in what she hoped was a tactful manner, bringing her gaze back up to the endless depth of his eyes. "What brings you here? Have you lost someone? If so, I'm very sorry."

[hamlet]

Her handshake was soft, noticeably so. Harry was just used to the firm handshakes he always got from business partners and other associates. His father used to tell him that you can tell a lot of things from a handshake and this woman's delicacy was confirmed by it.

"It's nice to meet you, Harry, and...not creepy at all, really - I have seen much creepier."

Harry grinned. "Good to know."

Juliet noticed his gaze even when he kind of wished she hadn't. He didn't want to bud into anyone else's grief, he had enough to deal with on his own. And he especially didn't want to come off as nosy. He already escaped coming off as creepy...barely. But it was too late, she already caught on.

"Oh...yes, Luisa was my, um..."

Harry tilted his head a bit as he looked at her, intrigued by her pause. He had no idea why he was all of a sudden so interested in what she had to say next. He attributed it to his general fascination with death ever since his father died. A part of him wanted to know everything about it - its effects on people, its consequences on others, and..the chances that Harry would be next on Death's list, and about whether to fight that paranoia or invite it. In a lot of ways Harry was stuck in his own thoughts, unable to move forward since his father's death because he was way too obsessed with the past. But didn't have have a right to be? The future didn't seem like anything worth obsessing over anyway.

"Luisa was a close friend of mine, and I loved her very much," She finally finished and Harry nodded, trying to express some sort of sympathy - not that he wasn't really sympathetic. But from where he was standing, he just couldn't bring himself to feel too much for anyone else's losses. Not until he takes inventory of his own.

"What about you? What brings you here? Have you lost someone? If so, I'm very sorry."

There was that word again - sorry. Funny he was hearing that from everyone lately except the very people he wanted to hear it from...not that it mattered.

He sighed heavily and glanced over at the grave site he just visited. "The really tall cross over there? It's where my father is buried." He looked back at Juliet. "Hamlet Chandler Sr. You might have heard of him. He used to be CEO of Hamlet Enterprises. But of course my dear old uncle took over that position." He shrugged. He really couldn't get anymore bitter than that...he couldn't help himself.

"So...did this happen recently?" Harry said, referring to Luisa's death and quickly trying to change the subject.

[prodigiousbirth]

She wasn't sure why, but Juliet wasn't put off by Harry, as she usually was with people (especially men - partcularly well-dressed men). How could she not be that way, though? She was never sure about people's intentions. After the years of being forced to be present, proper, and dolled up for her father's business meetings, just so he could show her off and demand she be polite and look pretty, she always saw a greasy exterior under the surface - even when, in reality, one didn't exist.

Her gaze wandered to where Harry's did, and her eyes opened wide at the sight of the cross. It dwarfed Luisa's gravestone - at her request, her family hadn't made a huge fuss over the gravesite. That had been one of the best things about Luisa - she was so special, but she never wanted to make a stink over herself. Juliet had learned a lot from her, and hoped she would carry that wisdom on to her own children someday.

"Hamlet Chandler Sr. You might have heard of him. He used to be CEO of Hamlet Enterprises. But of course my dear old uncle took over that position."

Juliet heard the hint of bitterness in his voice, and was admittedly curious. "Wow," she remarked, exhaling softly through her nose. "Your father must have been a very important and influential man." She wasn't sure what else to say - would it be OK to pry? She knew if she were in his position, she wouldn't want to be interrogated. Luckily, he changed the subject for her.

"So...did this happen recently?"

Her gaze flitted back to Luisa's gravestone.

"Oh, um...no, not really. Four years ago. I was still in high school." She bit down softly on her bottom lip. "Seems like decades ago, though." She smiled slightly. "I really miss her. She was like a mother to me. I am very lucky to have had her in my life."

[hamlet]

"Wow, your father must have been a very important and influential man."

Believe it or not, that was like the understatement of the year. To Harry, he wasn't some big wig that gave to charity once in a while and thereby earned the title of "important and influential." Hamlet was a good man and really walked the talk. Everyone knew that. His family knew that. His mother knew that and yet, it was like his father really hadn't lived now that his gone. As if memory of him was wiped clean in everyone else except for Harry. But he couldn't fault Juliet for not knowing.

So Harry nodded. "Very." He answered simply. "He did a lot of good things for a lot of people and..." he shrugged. ...no one is here to protect his legacy but me, he thought but didn't say. "...well, all good things come to an end, unfortunately." It was hard not to feel bitter about the whole thing. Really, it was a constant state of being for Harry. Every day in Hamlet Enterprises and at home, and even every night in his dreams, reminded him of how senseless Hamlet's death was.

But at least for now he has something else to think about, though Juliet's story wasn't exactly uplifting.

"Oh, um...no, not really. Four years ago. I was still in high school. Seems like decades ago, though. I really miss her. She was like a mother to me. I am very lucky to have had her in my life."

"Four years?" Harry repeated, furrowing his brow a bit. That was a long time and this woman was still taking it pretty hard. Yet its only been a month and the person who was closest to Hamlet, his own mother, was already moving on. Everyone had moved on except him.

Yet would he endure this deep grief four years from now? Would he even live that long?

"I'm just surprised...I guess." He confessed, looking a bit bemused. "My father died only a few months ago. For some odd reason I was expecting it to be easier after a little time has passed. But four years..." He sighed and shrugged. "To be honest I'm not sure whether to feel reassured. Time is supposed to heal, right? Well, I've just found that time has a funny way of picking and choosing who it decides to heal and when. I seem to be on the end of that waiting list."