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A WANING FIRE


Axelu
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A WANING FIRE

The Dragon of Alban

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HRH Princess Tatiana, the Duchess consort of Sunholdt

 

 


 

 

Plunk, Plunk. What a familiar sound, that of a leather boot plummeting into viscous mud. Despite the ever changing realms, there were still worldly consistencies she regularly observed - the expansive oceans of opal now crusted with ice, the high-ridged mountains, and populated havens of civilisation. To any other, it would be a susurration that would fester annoyance within one; not for Valignatir. She had become accustomed to the sights, sounds, and sensations endowed on her by the various earths as she had the sanctified bastions, citadels, and sights habitually seen by dragonborns. She swaggered onward, sending the remnants of moistened soil slinging to her boot off of it with a mere flick of her ankle. The bare trees drooped barely above her imposing stature and she sought to grasp for one of its lone fruits, an apple - unblemished by the frigid environment. Assessing it, she smiled and soon therein sunk her teeth into it. Chhnk….

 

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“Tatiana, won’t you join me?” cooed the honeyed voice of a familiar woman, of a bygone time. She donned an aureate coronet upon her head of onyx tresses; all aspects of her personage, ranging from her fur-laden attire and blazing blue eyes, indicated her station as the Bihari Queen Maya. Tatiana had been skittering through the halls, exploring each nook and cranny of the Palace Ekaterinburg to distract herself from the homesickness she had acquired since leaving her mother, the Dowager Duchess of Alban, in their estate within the territory of Aeldinic Venerra. The maiden princess sloped shallowly in obeisance before her matriarch, her knees wobbling as she clenched an apple between her set of teeth. Young Maya let out an amused laugh, commanding the girl forward. “How have you found New Reza? It’s surely different than Glythen..” the Queen began warmly, her eyes in constant scrutiny of the girl’s responses. “Oh, yes, it’s very different. However, I think I like it more - the landscape, the city; there’s an entire new world to explore, Your Majesty.” 

 

The Queen but smiled, uttering the words, “And so you shall explore, Princess Tatiana. I am certain we will be great friends.” And so they would, speaking for an hour or two on end; Tatiana would even serve as her Grand Lady for eight years - nearly a decade.



 

The memory swept through her mind like a hot flash, scalding and enduring. The apple was slackened from in between her fingers, meeting the ground below in a few seconds’ time. The being grunted, vying to carry herself onward. A heaviness overcame her, but still she persevered; that was the way of the Titan, strength and devotion, one she wouldn’t dare forgo. 

 

 Clink, Clank. A rush coursed through the figure of the princess, fully grown and statured. Sweat dotted her brows and reddened her cheeks as the foul swamp creature she had been tasked to fight by her mentor, the Elder Favnir. From beyond, sat upon a rock, he observed each movement of hers with anticipation; each exchange in the wretched waltz between Tatiana and the beast. She recalled muttering, sending a prayer to the heavens - to her Titan and liege. Therein, as the mighty creature bore its jagged maw toward the grass, she lept from atop a mound and thrust her blade into its back, rendering it to stir in anguish and fling her off of it. Tumbling to the moist ground beside it, she reached for her blade - plunged into the writhing creature’s back. Favnir stared from beyond with glee, hands interlocked over her knees. He was rather imposing in stature and build too, she remembered - as were all of her kith. She wasn’t, yet, but still managed to slay the large beast after a lengthy exchange. It was then that she completed her set of trials, was doused in righteous flame, and was made anew. 

 

A flame was snuffed; sudden and ever altering. Sensations and memories she had not experienced since her transcendence surged through her like an ironic scourge of wildfire and soon therein, she fell prostrate. Something had changed; a great loss. The very essence that coursed through her seemed foreign now and bereaved her of strength. Lost, forlorn, and without identity. 

 

… Peter d’Arkent … Eleanor, Theresa, Alexander … Avaeramos .... Eveth …  To think, she thought she would outlive them all.


 

Was she no longer meant for greatness, to bring glory? It did not take long for silence to consume her, the blistering cold stilling her mortal self. 

 

It was her only respite.

 

((PK POST. Felt stunted with the character's development and i thought, in light of recent wipes, this would be a good place to end her story 🙂 thanks so much for rp))

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Sharohan of the Yetevychi tribe was roaming the fields with his fellow Kadaksleri, shooting great beasts with many arrows, as he recalled the Duchess of Sunholdt. He thought to himself silently as he considered she nearing death's age like him. "Cənnətiq Ilah salamar", he at last offered as a prayer to her while hunting another boar.

Edited by JoanOfArc
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Mary Philippa welcomed one of her oldest friends to the Seven Skies with a warm embrace.

 

”A toast, hm?” She raises a champagne glass “To many years”

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Minerva frowned upon hearing such news, her head shaking faintly as she meandered further into the cool mists of the abyss.

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A lonesome elfess caught wind of such news, deep sorrow coursing within her. Eveth sat in a field of thick spring grass, tufting and waving as the ocean may on some sunny windswept day. She watched the green hues as it deepens and lightens in the sun-rays, the land itself steeply inclined. A quiet, serene morning, yet she felt only anguish. From her lips, she uttered a small prayer to her beloved mother.

 

Deep within the Augustine, a pallorous woman remained isolated within her bedchambers. The passing of the Duchess remained unbeknownst to her, though she remained simply scornful.

 

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From within the depths of the seven skies where Queen Maya was at peace, she welcomed her old friend with opened arms and a widening grin. “How about a drink of Carrion Black on me, Tatya?”

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