a fool's musings

Boreas by Waterhouse
Fool, said my muse to me,
look in thy heart and write...

Warning: Adult Content

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the five Ws, or, all about me

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current mood: current mood

"pathological and unbalanced"

Items of Interest

    Music
  • Walk On - U2
  • Thunder Road - Bruce Springsteen
  • If I Can't Change Your Mind - Sugar
  • Sick of Myself - Matthew Sweet
  • Town Called Malice - The Jam
  • One - U2
  • The Space Between - DMB
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2002-04-04 - 10:29 p.m.

don't tip the boat over...

2.5 hours to get home tonight.

One hour spent sitting in the station at Chambers Street because some fuckwad pulled the emergency brake on the train in front of us, and there's only one track into Broadway/Nassau.

I don't believe in the death penalty. But people who pull the emergency cord on the subway should be shot on sight.

Because it never helps.

it just gets you - and thousands of other people - stuck underground.

Grrr...

***

Was supposed to go out tonight, but I bagged - the GI tract is acting up again. Urk.

***

Go read WitchQueen and Te on the lack of Characters of Color in slash.

Can you believe there's a dearth of Riley/Forrest slash? I cannot. I swear, Riley Finn is the straightest boy *EVER* (possibly even straighter than Frank Pembleton), but Forrest was *so* in love with him, and Graham was pining for Forrest (forgive the pun).

Anyhow, very interesting discussion.

and now I'm torn between getting on AIM or going to bed. I know no writing is going to be done, though I have to rework the end of the deathfic slightly, to explain why Logan waits so long to get to Rogue.

Sigh.

Over in the LJ (and really, I would have named this "frail and bedazzled" but I'm way too fond of my blue and gold and muse theme to do so, but I just love those two words together. Billy Corgan had the right idea.) I've got a notion (and now I've got that damn song in my head. "Well I'd like to know that you got the notion") that there should be a clearinghouse for abandoned Works in Progress.

Well, Jenn had the clearinghouse idea, really, but *I* had the idea that there should be a point when unfinished fics get put in the public domain, and one can approach the author and ask if one can finish them.

And I was wondering what other people might think.

So, uh, share.

~victoria
[current mood: exhausted]
[current music: "Rock the Boat" in my head]

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2002-04-04 - 3:13 p.m.

alternate endings

Okay, so alternate endings, right?

I started a fic. I posted it here.

The plan was to kill Rogue, since I'd never written a true deathfic (though the beginning of Second Chances comes close, as does Redecorating. Inside Me and Control are dead letter fics, which is a whole different genre, imo) where one character dies in the presence of other characters.

So, Meg issued her little cave-in challenge, and while I typically shy away from challenges (unless they're of the opening line variety, or CIAC), this seemed to work for me.

Then Khaki and Peggy pointed out that, if Logan and Rogue were *together* in the cave-in, there's no fucking way in hell (oops, sorry, channelling Logan there. *g* The ladies said it in a much nicer way) that Logan wouldn't touch her to save her, regardless of the danger it put him in.

And Khaki said (this girl is really good for my muses, lemme tell ya. Feeds 'em all the time, and saves me from errors on occasion as well. Saw your email, if you're reading this, and I'm contemplating Logan's motivation now. Sigh.), "If they were *separated* and Logan *couldn't* touch her because he was trapped as well, *then* it would work."

In the happyfic, Logan heards the rumbling and he and Rogue end up together.

However, in the deathfic, Logan misses it (how? Who knows? He was probably staring at Rogue's ass *snerk*) and he's just seconds too late to keep her near him, and the walls crumble, creating a new wall between them, and crushing Rogue beneath the rubble.

So, we have a fork in the road, an event with at least two possible outcomes (and I'm sure y'all could come up with more, if you tried). And since it served my purpose, and seemed to work for some reason unknown to me on any but a gut instinct level, I wrote both versions.

Now, I typically agree with Meg, that providing alternate endings to stories is a cop out. They invalidate the story, because, well, what *is* the story then? They lived happily ever after, or they didn't, right?

I mean, one of the great comforts of fiction is that it often provides the order and the closure that real life does not, especially the type of shipper fic that I write.

So if you're presented with alternate endings, you're abdicating your responsibility as an author to choose, as well as apparently nullifying any choices the characters make.

In the end, we want (or I should say, *I* want. I don't know what other people want, and I'd never presume to guess. Meg, if you read this, tell me if I'm anywhere close to what you're thinking, 'kay?) stories to tell us, "this is so" and "this is not."

To provide two endings, where Rogue simultaneously lives and dies, is a cheat, in some sense, despite how it makes my little shipper heart happy. *G*

Yet, because this was a scenario with the options built in, where there was a definite and immediately identifiable turning point, it somehow *works* (for me, and, I hope for other people who read them) to show what would have happened, if only....

I mean, even though most fiction begins as "if only," or at least, "What if?", we typically only get one set of events.

We may have three or four different narrators telling their *version* of the story (and god knows, both The Sound and the Fury and Rashomon proved that *everyone* tells a different story, which is why I'm always big on mileage varying when discussing interpretations of television shows), but typically (not always, but a lot of times) the author will step in and give the "objective" version and then let the audience see how each character sees it.

I did this myself in Parallax, using the stabbing scene in the movie as the "objective" text (we see it happen but don't know what any of them are really thinking when it does), and then writing the same scene from 8 different POVs.

Which is a fascinating writing exercise, and I recommend everyone try it, but that's not my point right now. *g*

My point, and I do have one, is that the author *chooses* to show us one set of events.

If Jo had married Laurie, if Buffy hadn't fed herself to Angel... we don't get these alternate stories. We did get "what if Buffy didn't come to Sunnydale" in "The Wish" and a possible *huge* What If in "Normal Again" (i.e., what if Sunnydale weren't real), but generally speaking, there's a huge reset button on most of these episodes, and things go back to normal the next week.

But here, with this scenario, I could play with both endings. What if Logan got to Rogue in time? What if he didn't?

Admittedly, that's not how it started out, but once it was brought to my attention (and I had one version mostly *written* already and didn't feel like dismantling it. Laziness is often the mother of invention, despite what they tell you. Lazy people - people like me - are always looking for an easier way to do something, and hence, processes get streamlined. But that's neither here nor there for this discussion. I'm getting sidetracked again.) that really, the only way to make it work as a deathfic was if L and R were separated, well...

You can almost see the little wheels turning in my head, can't you? *g*

So yes, while having alternate endings is a bit of a cop out (is cop out hyphenated? It feels like it should be. Hmm...) most of the time, in *this particular instance* I think it works.

Like the movie Sliding Doors (which I've not seen) or possibly It's a Wonderful Life, I've given you two scenarios, and it's up to you to decide which actually happened, or, if you're a sci-fi fan and you like all that "multiple/parallel universe" stuff, both happened, and there are an infinite number of Logans and Rogues playing out the cave-in scenario in an infinite number of ways. *g*

And don't that just hurt your head?

So while I wouldn't provide alternate endings or even sequels in some cases (jesus, people, how could anyone have actually believed I'd have rewritten the end of Casablanca? It's CASABLANCA for fuck's sake! The ending is the BEST PART), this story seemed to lend itself to being "what if'd" and to having both forks in the road explored.

Plus, I got to use one of my favorite lines *twice*. Can't beat that. So what if afterwards, I realized I'd stolen it from Buffy (both the show *and* the character, though when she says it, it's kind of creepy. When Logan says it, it's swoony. Not sure why.)? Sigh.

Have I made any sense here? Have I swayed any of you to my POV? Have I even articulated my POV er articulately? *snerk*

Ah, me, I have a packet of Milano cookies waiting. I'll talk to you later.

If you have something you wanna say to me, shoot.

The the LJ entry talks about WsIP and the public domain. *g*

~victoria
[current mood: explanatory]
[current music: Piece of My Heart - Janis & Big Brother & the Holding Co.]

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2002-04-04 - 11:51 a.m.

a list of topics I don't discuss in this entry

Gah.

I lost the entry I wrote by clicking on the wrong thing.

I am a dumbass.

But you knew this already.

Many things I'd like to talk about, but instead, I'm going to be shallow.

This is what I actually used to look like, bodywise. I mean, this would be me if I were back down to my "thin" weight (which is most people's "fat" weight, but whatever): virtual victoria.

Except, of course that my hair is shorter and my face doesn't look like that. *g*

You can get your own at My Virtual Model.

I don't recall who I snabbled this from, but I thought it was cool.

And I would never, ever appear in public in a bikini, even when I was thinner. Sigh. Not since I was 5 and had my appendix out. Nasty ugly scar. Not that you can really see it anymore, unless you know it's there. I have a habit of showing it to people I probably shouldn't. *snerk*

You don't even need to get a couple of beers in me. Just offer to show me a scar of yours, and I'm there, unzipping my pants.

I really have no conception of TMI sometimes.

On the fannish tip, Kat Hughes said nice things about me!

Squee!

Plus, Alias fic. I'd be interested in some good, gen or noromo Alias fic.

Surely there must be someone writing it?

I have many thoughts I'd like to discuss, but am too busy at work to give any of them the attention they deserve.

here's a partial list:

+ Merry Lynne's contribution to the discussion of crit (and dammit, hers is one of the blogs I can't access at work. Stupid firewall.).

+ Seema's entry on blogging and how it affects fandom, and "making it"

+ blog archiving

+ Buffy - in point of fact, the view of an oldtimey Buffy fan on newbie fans

+ Devil Doll's entry on WsIP (and Jenn's response and DD's reply to that)

+ Presentation of the diary/journal/blog, or, do you edit your entries for typos etc. or let the chips fall where they may? This is the thing Jenn and I were discussing that I couldn't remember yesterday. *G* My short-term memory is terrible, but let me get a couple days' distance, and I'm all over it. I've a mind like a steel sieve.

+ Why we write fanfic and why we pick the fandoms and pairings we pick, or, rather, why they pick us.

+ Alternate endings. Actually, I may try this later on today, since it's directly in response to the joy/pain fics I posted in here yesterday, and a very interesting discussion (and also an example of how I can rationalize *anything* I do that would bug me if someone else did it, but why it's okay for me. *snerk*)

+ Songfic, or, is it a songfic if you never quote the lyrics?

+ The P word. It's reared its ugly head in CLex. And I do mean ugly in this case. If you're going to plagiarize (what'd you think I meant? Pussy? *snerk*), why plagiarize a BAD story? Just another layer of mystery to the whole mindset of the plagiarist.

Hmm, that may actually be the whole list. *g*

In the meantime, for interesting reading, I suggest you check out Kate's Tropicana of the Mind for an example of amazingly evocative writing, an excerpt from a book by Zora Neale Hurston (and I know I spelled that wrong. Mi molto dispiace).

It's back to work for me, and also back to attempting (and failing miserably) to edit Consumption. *g*

And just so's you know - I wore the Cassis lipstick [or lippie, as I'm told our Aussie friends call it. *g* They're a strange bunch, they are.] and it's much redder on than it is in the tube. I still like it, and it looks nice and shiny, but... red. not purple. Huh.

Oops, I forgot - all comments welcome. Proposals and propositions, too.*g*

~victoria
[current mood: busy]
[current music: Wonderful Tonight - Eric Clapton]

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2002-04-03 - 11:50 p.m.

lotta lipstick

Okay, it's not like this is a newsflash, but there are some sick fucking people out there.

And they all seem to click on this diary, looking for mpreg or incest stories. Good lord, you don't suppose they're looking for mpreg/incest stories, do you?

I mean, I'm pretty laissez-faire about other people's kinks, but pedophilia [which by the way is NOT what L/R is, since she's a teenager and has passed puberty. There's another word for men who like teenagers. I forget what it is, but it's not technically pedophilia] and incest are just... ::shudders::

Of course, now I'll get even more freaks looking for this shit in my diary.

Sigh.

musings on Stirred, tonight's West Wing ep, over in the LJ. 'Ware spoilers if you haven't seen it.

In other news, spent $29 today on lipstick and conditioner.

There's this store on 55th St. [or maybe it's 56th? I wasn't paying attention] called Cosmetic Show [Show Cosmetics?] and they sell all sorts of cosmetics at a discount. I don't know if they're promo stuff that doesn't sell or if the stuff fell off the back of a truck or what, but they have a ton of well-known make up for slightly less money.

So I ended up with 6 new lipsticks, 4 from Elizabeth Arden and 2 from L'Oréal.

That makes ten new lipsticks in the past month.

Sadly, they're almost all the same color. *snerk*

Lessee...

Wet Shine from Maybelline
=Red Red Wine
=Cranberry Wine

Maybelline Moisture Whip
=Plushed Plum

L'Oréal Shine Delice
=Sugar-n-Spice Sheer

L'Oréal So Delice
=Ripe Raisin Sheer (these smell fabulous, btw. I hate nasty smelling lipstick. I won't use it, regardless of how nice the color looks.]

L'Oréal Colour Riche
=Passion
=Rouge Romantique
=True Berries
=Raspberries

Elizabeth Arden Luxury Lipstick
=Matte Velvet
=Sugarplum
=Cassis
=Honey Mauve (which is too light for me, alas. I'll give it to Marguerite. It'll suit her.)

So yeah, that's a lotta lipstick. *g*

The cool (and possibly illegal *snerk*) thing about this place is that they sell the conditioner you get in hair coloring by itself. For $1.50.

So I bought two tubes of the conditioner you get with Feria, which is the most awesome conditioner *ever*. *g*

My hair isn't dry, and I haven't colored it since September, but it can't hurt to have a supermoisturizing conditioner once in a while. I mean, I was able to run a comb through my hair with no "Ouch"ing during the process, and that's extremely rare for me. My hair likes to knot itself up constantly.

Oh well, I've got editing to do, so uh, bye.

~victoria



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2002-04-03 - 4:21 p.m.

comicverse/movieverse

Andraste is as smart and gracious as she is talented, and she has some intelligent things to say about the separation of comic and movieverse in X-Men fandom.

Go read. *g*

~victoria
[current music: Born in the USA - Bruce SPringsteen]

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2002-04-03 - 2:30 p.m.

The Joy part of the equation

Whee!

It's back!

For those poor folks who slogged through the deathfic over in the LJ, here is the other side of the coin.

This has been beta'd, and is complete, also. But still, if you see something that niggles at you, feel free to comment.

~*~

No Day But Today: Joy

Logan was not a praying man, but he closed his eyes and wished to the God he didn't believe in that the X-Men arrived soon. He concentrated, hoping Jean or Xavier would pick up his thoughts, even if God didn't.

He tightened his arms around Rogue and dropped a light kiss onto her hair.

This was supposed to be a quiet weekend in the mountains. A little fishing, a little hiking, nothing too exciting; just a celebration of her college graduation. He should have known things had been a little *too* quiet.

Rogue had wanted to explore the caves. They'd smelled all right -- no bears or other vicious beasties lurking -- so he hadn't been too concerned.

He *hadn't* expected the rockslide. He was lucky he'd heard it in time, or they'd have been separated. As it was, they were now trapped inside, and he feared that Rogue's legs -- and possibly her back and ribs -- were broken. She took the brunt of the debris as it had come crashing down over them.

Of course, the cell phone wasn't working. He'd managed to connect with Storm for mere seconds before the signal winked out, and he hoped Chuck was in Cerebro, tracking them.

But there was no way to know for sure.

"Logan, can I tell you something?"

"Anything, kid."

"You know I love you, right?" she said, her voice soft and thready from the pain.

"Yeah."

"'Cause, I mean, I always wanted to say it, but I didn't think you wanted me, wanted the bother--"

"Of course, I want you. You're my girl."

"Well, I love you, Logan. And now, you don't have to worry about loving me back, because I won't be around anymore."

"Hey, hey, don't talk like that, kid. You're gonna pull through this. Cyke and the others will be here soon, I'll give you the old healing touch, and were in like Flynn."

"No."

"Yes."

"Stop trying to make me feel better. I know they're not coming. They'd have been here by now. They think I'm dead and they know you can make it out by yourself."

"Rogue--"

"No. No. You've never given me false hope before, Logan. Don't start now."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"I mean, you never pretended we were anything but friends. You never led me on. I really appreciate that. It would have been so easy for you to--" she broke off, coughing.

"I don't like the sound of that," he muttered, shifting slightly so he could see her face better.

She was dirty and her face was pale and drawn with pain, but she managed to smile when he looked at her.

"It's okay, Logan. I'm dying. I know that. And that means you're free of your obligation. I know the only reason you stuck around was because of the promise you made. I know you always keep your word."

"Come on, Rogue, stop it. That's crazy talk."

"No, it's not."

"Fuck this shit, I'm touching you now."

Her eyes widened and she shrank from his outstretched hand.

"No!" She swallowed hard, and the tears slipped silently down her cheeks. "You'll be too weak. It'll knock you out."

"I'll only hold on long enough to stop the bleeding. How's that?"

"No."

"But--"

"But me no buts, Logan. I said, no."

"You're in shock, darlin'. You don't know what you're saying."

"I know that I'm going to die here, Logan, in your arms. And that's the way I want to go, so it's all right."

"Now, you're just being dramatic. You're not gonna die."

"Logan, I can't feel my legs." Her voice was edged with hysteria, and he tried to gather her even closer. "Everything I *can* feel hurts like hell on fire. We're miles from anywhere, and the phone didn't work."

"Yes, it did."

"Don't start lying to me now," she snapped, anger giving her strength. "You pretended you were talking to Storm, but all she said was, 'Hello? Hello?' before the signal faded. I doubt she even heard you."

"How--"

"Good hearing," she said, with a wan smile. "Thanks to you."

"And I can do it again, if you let me."

"No."

"Fine. I'll just wait until you pass out."

"Logan!"

"I'm serious. I'm gonna heal you and then we're gonna dig our way out, regardless of whether or not the geeks show up."

"That's not the point."

"It's not?"

"No. You're avoiding the point. I just told you I love you."

He felt his chest constrict and warmth flood his body at that. "Yeah. Yeah, you did." He couldn't stop the smile from sliding across his face. "I love you, too, kid." He'd never said it to anyone else, that he could remember, but the words tumbled from his lips more easily than he'd ever have believed. Because it was Marie.

"Don't lie!"

She was crying now in earnest, and he was baffled.

"I'm not lying, Marie. I love you. Have forever, it seems like."

"No! You love Jean. I know. I have your thoughts--"

"That was five years ago. And it was never love. Not like I feel for you."

"Exactly! You love me like a kid sister, or the daughter you might have had --"

He swallowed uneasily. It was true, that was what other people had always thought about their relationship, but that had never entered his mind. He'd known she was an attractive young woman when they'd met, and he'd known she had a thing for him. He'd been impressed with her backbone and her courage, and she was the first person he'd let himself care about in a very long time.

"I loved you from the moment I saw you, darlin', though I didn't know it was love at the time."

"But my hair, my skin--"

He blinked. "Huh? What about them? I wish to God I could have gotten you out of the machine before Magneto fucked you up, and you got the streaks, but," he leaned in even closer, his lips mere millimeters from her ear, "I think they're kinda sexy." He felt her shiver, and it was all he could do not to simply press his lips against her ear, her jaw, anywhere he could reach. He knew that if he did, she'd know how much he loved her, and she'd heal, to boot. He didn't want to wait until she passed out. He was grateful, in this instance, for her skin, much as he had been every other time she'd been injured and he'd healed her. Maybe-- "And your skin -- I hate that it makes life so lonely for you, that you can't touch the way other people can. But I love the way our mutations mesh, so that I can heal you whenever you're hurt. Please let me heal you."

"I--"

"I'll beg if that's what you want, Marie."

It was her turn to be stunned. "What? Do you think I'm punishing you for something? This isn't about *you*. Do you think this is easy for me, Logan?" The sound and smell of her tears riled the animal inside him, made him eager to fight, but there was no one to fight in this situation. He had to keep control, or he'd do something that might wind up hurting them both, like bringing the ceiling of their little haven down on their heads. "I don't want to die. There are so many things I want to do. But I don't want to hurt you anymore."

"Hurt me? When --"

"When you touch me, it hurts you."

"Well, yeah." He had to acknowledge that; it was the truth. He didn't say, 'When you touch me, I don't mind dying.' He knew it wouldn't aid his cause, however true it was. "But it helps you, and I heal fast."

"I know they all think it's okay for you to get hurt, because you heal, but I don't think it is."

He closed his eyes against the sting of tears. "I know, baby. I know. And that's one more reason I love you." She sniffed and he dropped another kiss on her hair. "So let me touch you, okay?"

She sighed, and he knew he'd won. "Okay, Logan. But, don't pass out, okay? Let go before you pass out. I don't want to be alone in here."

He nodded, swallowing hard. "I love you," he whispered, sliding his lips against her soft skin. "Never forget that." He tried to think only good things as he felt the pull begin. She gasped and her body arched as the healing began.

"Oh, oh, Logan," she breathed, and as consciousness was fading, he was vaguely aware of wondering if that's what she'd sound like when he made love to her.

***

He woke in the lab, squinting as Jean stood over him, smiling.

"Welcome back," she said.

"Good to be back," he answered. "Where's Rogue?"

"Right here, sugar," she said, coming into view.

"You're all right?" he asked, watching her carefully. She was walking. She was healed.

"I'm fine. You, however--" She broke off, flinging herself onto his chest, crying.

"What? What'd I do now?" he asked, bewildered. Jean grinned and snuck out of the room.

"You love me."

"I *told* you that."

"I know. You did."

"It's not my fault you didn't believe me."

"No. No, it's not. Oh, Logan." She pressed a kiss to his heart, through the sheet covering his chest, and he felt it skip a beat in excitement. "I thought I was going to lose you. Promise me you'll never do that again!"

"I can't." He sat up and hauled her onto his lap. "Because if it's a question of me healing you or me letting you go and staying healthy, I'll choose you every time." He pushed her hair behind her ears, careful of her skin. "That's what love is, kid, and I love you."

"I love you, too, Logan. I was stupid. I'm sorry."

"Nah, you were in shock. And it all worked out."

"But if--"

"Don't go borrowing trouble, Marie. We're alive. That's what's important. Life is a dangerous business, even without the superhero crap, so I've learned that today is what's important. Not my past, not even the future. No day but today."

"No day but today," she repeated, snuggling into his arms as he lay back down. "I think I can live with that."

She settled against his chest, and once more, Logan sent up a prayer to a god he wasn't sure existed. He had his life, and he had his girl, and a man couldn't ask for more than that.

End

~*~

Nits? Problems? Questions? you know what to do.

I know it's very mushy and over the top. So is the deathfic.

I'm thinking that was kind of the point.

That, and how many times I could link to the LiveJournal in one entry.

*snerk*

Gonna eat lunch now.

~victoria
[current mood: hungry]
[current music: Peaceful World - John Mellencamp]



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2002-04-03 - 9:57 a.m.

Fanfic as fantasy baseball

My allergies are seriously acting up.

Not outside, but here in the office, all of a sudden, I sneezed for about 15 minutes straight, and I can still feel the tickle in my nose. And if you don't believe me, you can ask CC, my co-worker, who was chatting to me nonstop as I sneezed.

I have actual work to do again today, which sucks. But I suppose that's what they pay me for. Sigh.

I had a fannish insight this morning, that may or may not make sense.

Rotisserie baseball.

Fanfic writers are like the fantasy/rotisserie league baseball people.

Now, I've said before that I think my sports fannishness directly prepped me for media fandom, in that I was already open to the idea of being slavishly devoted to *something*.

And some of the fanfic I made up in my mind as a young'un was definitely of the Real People variety, featuring my grown up Mary Sue and various athletes on whom I crushed, in addition to Faramir-crushing and various other fictional men (and I still need to do that list of fictional boyfriends, eh? *g*).

And a number of years ago, rotisserie or fantasy sports came onto the scene. I don't know much about it, aside from the fact that lots of people make fun of the people who participate in it.

What it is, for those of you who are not sports-inclined, is when fans hold their own "season" and create their own "teams" trading players and having games and such. They work with the real stats of the players to construct scenarios, I guess. I don't really know. If there's anyone out there who's into this, let me know if I'm describing it correctly.

So yeah, they're constructing their own fantasies based on their love of the game.

Sound familiar?

I think fanfiction is analogous to that, at least in broad terms.

And speaking of baseball, Mets-Pirates again this afternoon. We (and see, fans always say *we* when talking about their teams, even though *we* - the fans - have no say as to what happens on the field. Well, sometimes "we" can be the tenth man [or the sixth man or the twelfth man or whatever, depending on the sport] and how loud the cheering in the stadium is, but that's not what I mean) could go 2 up today. *g*

Nice way to start the season, eh?

Comments always welcome. And I don't think I'm going to upgrade to supergold membership here just to get comments. I mean, it seems to me things are working the way the are now, right?

~victoria
[current mood: cheerful and sneezy]
[current music: Secondhand News - Fleetwood Mac]

[current mood: ]
[current music: ]
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~*~

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The painting is "Boreas" by John William Waterhouse. Again, not a muse, but I like her. She suits the color scheme.

The quote is from Sir Philip Sidney.

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