What in blazes am I going on about, eh?
Honestly I had a moment in my new work (not the weird vampy one, but the other one, you know. You know, right?) Where she compares herself to the Lady of Shallot. If you're not familiar with the work It's about a lady who was cursed by some unknown force to be unable to leave her tower, or be able to even see out her window without fear of something unknown. Well, to spoil the ending, she does leave her tower because she sees Lancelot, and cannot, for the life of her, quit thinking about him.
She makes her way down to the castle of Camelot and dies, practically at his feet.
And in the last stanza he says:
"Who is this? and what is here?
And in the lighted palace near
Died the sound of royal cheer;
And they cross'd themselves for fear,
All the knights at Camelot:
But Lancelot mused a little space;
He said, "She has a lovely face;
God in his mercy lend her grace,
The Lady of Shalott."
That's all he has to say about her. She risked her life to see him, and yet.. he just says "yeah she's pretty."
There's a comparison I'm making in my story where heroine feels she is the Lady of Shallot watching the hero and his family in their natural surroundings in their personal Camelot. She's uncomfortable, having no family of her own to speak of, while he exists in a very loving, very close knit family, all the while hoping she will not meet her demise while near him and for the love of gods that her hero is not... Lancelot, (the arse.)
We'll see how it plays out.